LIBRARY  OF    THE    COMMANDERV   OF 
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CADET  ARMORY,    BOSTON 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


By  EMORY  J.  HAYNES,  D.  D. 


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WEDDING  IN   WAR-TIME 


BY 


EMORY    J.    HAYNES,  D.  D., 

FASTOK  TKXMONT  TSMPLS  CMVKCH,  BOSTON, 

Author  of  ^^  Dollars  and  Duty;'  '^  Are  These   Things 
Soj"  Etc.,  EU. 


BOSTON: 
JAMES    H.   EARLE,   PUBLISHER 
178  Washington  Striet. 


copyright,  rSSg, 
By  Jamks  H.  Earlb, 

All  rights  restrvuL 


INDEX  TO  CHAPTERS. 


I.  She  Was    a    Farmer 7 

II.  Doctor  Smiles  and' His  Son.    ...  29 

III.  Captain  Broon  and  His  Son  ....  46 

IV.  A  Shocking  l-ie 73 

V.  His  Mountain   Palace 98 

VI.  The    War    Meeting    . 122 

VII.  The    Soldier's    Wedding 147 

VIII.  Off    to    the  Front i68 

IX.  Hero    or    Poltroon 180 

X.  The    Bride's    Confession 200 

XI.  To  Enlist  or  Not  to  Enlist    .    .    .  229 

XII.  Not  to  be  Camp-followers     .    .    .    .  260 

XIII.  The    Two    Colonels    Meet     ....  288 

XIV.  The  Accursed  Superstition   Again      .  310 
XV.  Sink  or  Float 331 

XVI.  What  the   Sea    Did  to    The  Soldier  352 

XVII.  And  What  the  God  of  the  Sea    .    .  377 

XVIII.  Unarmed 400 


A  WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


SHE  WAS  A  FARMER, 

i  i  /np  HAT  pretty  farmer  lass  again ! " 

■^  The  young  gentleman,  Mark  Broon  by 
name,  son  of  the  did  sailor  -  merchant  Capt. 
Charles  Broon,  of  New  York,  whose  weather- 
beaten  sign  you  may  see  on  lower  Broadway, 
looked  up  from  whipping  the  daisies  at  the  road- 
side and  held  his  walking-stick  in  poise  of  gen- 
uine embarrassment. 

Yet  he  had  purposely  crossed  the  pasture 
and  threaded  the  cart-track  through  the  dew-laden 
meadow  that  he  might  pass  the  white  farm- 
house, in  whose  door  he  yesterday  saw  this 
same  superb  face.  Not  that  it  was  a  very  res- 
olute purpose  when  he  left  the  little  village 
hotel  for  a  morning  stroll.  Still  he  had  to  con- 
fess that  he  hoped  to  see  her  again.  She  had 
troubled  his  dream,   more  or  less,    the    preceding 

7 


S  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

night.  But  as  he  leaped  the  fence  to  gain  the 
highway,  just  behind  a  sheltering  clump  of 
alder-bushes,  in  order  to  see  a  casual  passer-by 
along  the  road,  it  was  decidedly  embarassing 
to  catch  sudden  sight  of  her  sitting  calmly 
enthroned  upon  the  stone-wall,  and  watching  all 
his  motions.  He  must  have  been  under  her 
eye  all  the  way  across  her  broad  acres ;  a  tres- 
passer, save  that  no  New  England  farmer  would 
ever  so  regard  it,  even  if  he  had  trodden  the 
grass  in  long  serpentine  traces  stretching  away 
to  the  village  street  where  he  entered  the  field. 
But  if  not  resenting  his  trespass,  this  pretty 
spectator  must  have  known  that  he  came 
straight  towards  the  farm-house,  evidently  impa- 
tiently ;  for  though  the  roadway  would  have 
added  a  circling  mile,  it  would  have  saved  him 
the  dew,  not  yet  risen,  which  had  soiled  his 
blackened  boots   and   bedraggled   his   clothing. 

While  he  hesitated,  a  ''hired  man"  looked  up 
from  his  corn-planting  and  gave  him  "good 
morning." 

"  Ah,  good  morning  to  you,  my  man,"  replied 
young  Broon,  much  relieved.  "  This  is  a  noble 
farm.  The  Lane  place,  I  believe  they  told  me. 
Mr.    Lane^" 

*  Mr.    Lane   is    dead   an'    gone,    sir,    two    year 

our 


SHE   WAS  A  FARMER.  9 

ago,"  replied  the  workman,  leaning  on  his  hoe 
and  glad  of  an  excuse  for  a  rest.  His  right  eye 
seemed  to  be  turned  on  the  intruder,  his  left 
on  his  silent  young  mistress  sitting  yonder. 
'*  Yes,  this  ere  place  is  kep'  up  good  though. 
Mrs.  Lane's  a  mighty  hand  at  runnin'  her 
place.  We  call  it  the  Widder  Lane  place  neow. 
Know  her.?" 

"  I  have  n't  that  pleasure,"  said  Mr.  Broon, 
resting  his  arms  akimbo  and  thinking  how  hot 
the  sun  was  becoming,  all  the  while  conscious 
that  those  great  blue  eyes  from  the  wall,  over 
which  the  maple  shade  and  sunspots  were  play- 
ing,  were  regarding  him. 

"  Stayin'   up  here?"  asked  the  workman. 

"Yes,   for  a  time,"   was   the  reply. 

"Pleasure,  I   s'pose?" 

"Not  altogether.  .Have  business  that  calls 
me   here." 

"  Buyin*  bosses,  neow,  maybe  ?  Colts  is  mighty 
high   this   spring." 

The  young  fellow  politely  replied  that  he  was 
not  a  horse  dealer,  nor  a  cattle  drover,  nor  a 
speculator  in  hay,  cheese,  butter,  nor  any  other 
"truck."  All  the  while  he  was  perfectly  sure 
that  the  beauty  on  the  wall  was  sitting  like  a 
charming  rural  judge   in    court,   noting    this    per 


:0  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

sonal  testimony  by  which  a  city  stranger  gave 
account  of  himself,  or  rather  failed  to  give  ac- 
count of  himself.  For  he  had  not  yet  told  any- 
thing affirmatively  of  his  errand  "in  these 
parts."  He  might  as  well.  Why  not,  and  done 
with  it .?  It  would  soon  be  known  from  the 
tavern  gossips ;  indeed  he  must  be  known  from 
his  former  visits  of  last  autumn,  and  the  work- 
men whom  he  was  boarding  and  lodging  in  the 
village.     So  he  said: 

"And,  now,  what  is  your  name?  You  are 
good   at  asking  questions,   my   man  ?  ** 

"Dick   Loyly,   sir." 

"Well,  Dick,  my  name  is  Mark  Broon.  I'm 
the  gentleman  who  purchased  the  top  of  Red  Hill, 
that  mountain  over  there,  last  fall.  I  see  by 
your  looks  that  you  know  all  about  it,  and  are 
now  glad  to  see  the  simpleton,  as  you  all  seem 
to  think  me,  who  is  building  an  expensive  resi- 
dence in  such  a  place.  Some  people  build  a 
summer-house  by  the  seaside,  but  I  prefer  mine 
among  the  mountains." 

To  no  one  had  he  before  deigned  so  much  of 
an  explanation  as  the  last  remark,  which  was, 
in  fact,  addressed  to  the  owner  of  the  blue  eyes 
on   the  stone   wall. 

There  he  stood,   a  well-knit  frame    of    medium 


SHE   IVAS  A  FARMER,  „ 


Stature,     broad-shouldered,    neatly-attired,    but     for 
his   bedraggling  through    the    sparkling    meadows, 
aged    just    twenty-four,    as    we    happen    to    know, 
that   day;  a  year  out   of  college,   rich,   and    with 
no  errand  in   life  —  but   seeking  one.     He   pushed 
his   straw  hat   back  to  catch   the  mountain  breeze 
and   to   think,  — though   what   the   hat    nas   to   do 
with   the  thinking   machinery  of  embarrassed   men 
is   a   mystery;    but    the    motion    revealed    a    fine 
brow,    which    you    would    have    called     high,     no 
doubt,  except  for  its   width.     His  brown   hair  was 
cut   in   the   close-cropped   habit   of    the    stroke-oar 
days.     A   rather  full   moustache   with  flowing  ends 
became   him.     His  face  was   neither  fat   nor  lean, 
but   his   color  was   decided    bronze   and   red.     His 
eyes   were   hazel,  noteworthy  and   honest.     Indeed, 
it   was   something  in    the   eye,    something  in    the 
resolute   mouth,   and   something   more   in   the   rich 
and   unusual    tones   of    his    voice    that    impressed 
Blue   Eyes   on   the  wall   that   this   stranger,    Mark 
Broon,      had     a      mind    of     his    own.       Whether 
to    trust    him    or     not,     this    city    stranger,    and 
extend     the    frank     rural     hospitality     which     he 
evidently     sought.     Blue     Eyes    was     as     yet     un- 
decided. 

At    present    she    is    contrasting    him    with    the 
flannel -shirted,   cow-hide   shod   hoer  of    the  com, 


12  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

whose  stridulous  voice  is  now  silenced  as  he 
bends  again   to   his   toil. 

But  there  she  sits,  aged  twenty-two  ( forgive 
the  accurate  record,  Laura  Lane)  ;  her  mother's 
only  child  and  heir,  a  widow's  darling  and  rich 
as  things  go  among  these  sheep-raising  hills. 
But  there  is  money  in  the  village  bank's  unsafe 
safe-deposit  box  too,  as  every  young  farmer  in 
five  townships  could  tell  us.  And  those  two 
years  which  exceed  the  usually  marriageable 
twenty,  I  really  mentioned  significantly.  All 
these  two  years  the  country  folk  have  been  won- 
dering what  she  would,  after  all,  finally  do  with 
her  pretty  self.  Ripe  at  twenty,  this  cherry  is 
fairly  luscious  at  two  and  twenty,  still  hanging 
on   the   bough  —  sitting   on   the   wall,   rather. 

Her  broad  straw  hat,  decidedly  wider  brimmed 
than  the  fashion  in  parasols  at  Newport  that 
year,  looked  as  odd  as  it  was  fastidious ;  for  a 
green  veil  twined  round  the  crown,  flew  the 
breeze  in  a  charming  sort  of  way,  and  compelled 
the  wearer  to  put  up  a  fair  W'hite  arm  every 
now  and  then  to  control  the  whole  rigging. 
She  wore  white,  cut  and  made  up  in  her  own 
style,  indescribable  except  that  her  garments  lay 
about  her  and  clung  to  her  in  comely  grace, 
not   to   mention   the  dazzling  effect  as  the    clear 


SHE   WAS  A  FARMER. 


sunlight  rested  on  the  white  beyond  the  shade 
of  that  big  hat.  In  her  plump,  small  hand  she 
held  a  newspaper,  yet  in  its  wrapper,  to  secure 
which  from  the  hole  in  the  bar-post,  where  the 
stage-driver  daily  thrust  it,  was  her  errand  hither. 
White  and  pink,  despite  the  sun,  were  hands 
and  face;  a  wonderfully  clear  complexion,  the 
young  man  had  noticed,  such  as  perfect  health 
alone  can  give,  and,  from  some  favored  few,  no 
amount  of  sun  or  wind  can  tan  away.  Very 
light  and  almost  wavy  hair,  luxuriant,  with  stray 
silken  skeins  of  it  dividing  her  hands'  attention 
with  the  veil  —  and  yet  crimps  were  not  in 
fashion,  that  I  know  of,  in  '6i,  and  so  far  up 
in  the  country.  Such  hair  was  it  that  young 
Broon,  being  something  of  an  artist,  longed  to 
get  the  effect  of  pure  sunlight  on  it.  Her  eyes 
—  well,  well,  it  was  by  her  eyes  that  I  first 
designated  her  in  this  history ;  they  were  the 
all-noticed  and  first-noticed,  as  they  were  the 
longest  remembered  by  strangers.  "That  young 
lady  with  the  blue  eyes,"  people  would  say,  in 
indicating  her.  And  yet  I  know  not  which  I 
would  most  dwell  upon,  were  I  to  dare  a 
description,  their  beauty  or  their  kindness,  the 
richest  charm,  by  the  way,  in  a  woman's 
eyes. 


14  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

Whatever  of  wood  nymph  and  wings,  however, 
had  been  suggested  as  she  half  reclined  upon 
the  ponderous  granite  stones,  was  dispelled  when 
the  young  lady  stepped  gracefully  down  in  good 
solid  flesh  and  blood,  weight  and  stature,  to  the 
soft  turf.  She  had  evidently  made  up  her  mind 
to  greet  and  welcome  the  strange  young  man  with 
the  simple,  neighborly  good-will  which  is  usual 
among  these  unconventional  hills. 

With  hat  in  hand,  and  politely  bowing,  Mark 
Broon  was  not  slow  to  take  the  overture  and 
give  her,   in   turn: 

"  Good  morning.  The  lady  of  the  house,  —  or 
farm,  I  should  say,  I  presume.  May  I  introduce 
myself  ?  Broon  is  my  name,  —  of  Red  Hill,  if  I 
may  so  say ;  though  I  hardly  dare  hope  you 
have  heard  of  your  new  neighbor." 

"  Indeed  I  have  heard  of  you,  sir,"  she  replied, 
advancing  now  towards  the  bars.  She  showed 
pearls  in  her  mouth,  and  her  voice  was  musical 
and  kind,  like  her  eyes.  She  seemed  glad,  more- 
over, that  he  had  relieved  her  of  the  need  of 
speaking  first.  "We  do  not  stand  much  on  cer- 
emony, we  farmers,  Mr.  Broon,  as  you  will  dis- 
cover, I  trust,  to  your  pleasure,  if  at  times  to 
your  annoyance.  Curiosity  grows  like  a  weed  is 
the  country." 


SHE   WAS  A   FARMER,  1 5 

"Allow  me,"  said  Broon,  dropping  the  two 
top   bars  for   her   egress   to   the   highway. 

**  Thank  you,"  she  repliedj  blushing  perceptibly 
at  sight  of  his  tact,  for  she  had  not,  till  that 
minute,  fully  decided  to  walk  along  the  highway 
with  him  as  she  returned  to  the  farmhouse. 
However,  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  else  for  it 
now,  and  she  put  a  trim  slipper  over  the  bottom 
bar  precipitately,  not  to  trouble  him  too  much 
and  stood  beside  him.  "Do  not  mind  to  replace 
them,   sir.     Dick,   put   up  the  bars,   please. 

But  Mark  had  begun  to  replace  them  as  she 
spoke.  Meanwhile,  Miss  Laura  crossed  the  road- 
way to  the  further  side.  On  a  country  highway 
pedestrians  best  walk  along  the  very  edge,  or 
in  the  path  of  the  wheels  at  least.  "A  safe 
distance  apart,"  thought  she,  as  they  began  to 
move  towards   the   house  not  far  away. 

"  So  you  and  your  mother  are  the  best  farm- 
ers in   this   country .? "   he  said. 

"  Indeed } "  she  answered  brightly,  as  much  as 
to  say,  "  Who  told  you  all  about  us }  and  why 
have  you  been  inquiring.?"  But  she  did  not 
pursue  her  advantage  as  she  continued  pleasantly, 
"  And  would  you  consider  that  a  compliment  to 
two  women  ? " 

"Nothing    is    nobler    than     duty    wel      done, 


l6  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

whatever  the  duty,  Miss  Lane.  But  why  did 
you   challenge   me   with   such  a  question  ? " 

"I  really  did  not  intend  it  as  a  challenge," 
she  replied.  "  Only  "  —  and  she  grew  silent  as 
she   picked   her  way  through   the  dust. 

*'  Only  you  cherish  the  prevalent  suspicion  of 
us  unfortunate  city  visitors?*'  he  said  with  a 
roguish  twinkle   in  his  glance. 

"Suspicions  are  the  worst  of  mental  compan- 
ions, I  think,"  was  her  answer.  "And  I  enter- 
tain none  of  you,  sir.  Yet,  of  course,  you  are 
aware  that  ladies  who  live  on  a  farm  cannot 
quite  be  strangers  to  work.  I  can  milk  a  cow, 
for  instance,  though  that  is  not  saying  I  do  it 
every  day.  I  can  tell  you  the  present  price 
of  good  Timothy  hay  or  clover  by  the  ton,  of 
butter,  eggs  and  cheese,  which,  by  the  way,  I 
do  assist  in  making  every  day.  I  keep  the 
accounts  of  the  farm,  and  have  done  it  ever 
since   papa  died,   when   I'm  at    home." 

"Then  you  are  not  always  at  home?  Perhaps 
you  visit  in  the  city^ — my  own  city,  for  instance," 
and  he  caught  at  an  adjacent  shrub,  stripping 
off  the  leaves  as  he  made  the  bold  venture  for 
a  biographical  item. 

"No;  though  I  have  been  in  New  York. 
We     have     friends    there.      But    I    referred    to 


SHE   WAS  A  FARMER,  17 

absence  at  school.  What  I  meant  was,  however, 
that  we  country  people  credit  you  city  people 
with  keeping  —  how  shall  I  say  it?"  she  ex- 
claimed in  charming  confusion.  "  You  think  that 
a  lady's  place  is  in  the  parlor,  or  at  some  ele- 
gant ease,  or  busy  with  society,  or  dress,  or  art, 
or,  —  oh  dear,  dear !  How  did  I  ever  come  to 
express  my  opinions  of  you  people  so  openly ! " 
and  she  gave  the  great  hat  a  convenient  tip  to 
leeward,    hiding   her  face. 

Mark  Broon  laughed  heartily,  at  which  she 
quickly  peeped  out  from  beneath  the  hat  at 
him,  half  scared,  half  indignant.  But  his  next 
word   rather  reassured   her,   for  he   said ; 

**I  shall  not  dispute  you.  Perhaps  I  might 
criticise  the  city  girls  more  intimately,  and  yet 
more  severely,  than  you  have.  Perhaps  I  don't 
fancy  them  myself  overmuch.  But  I  know  some 
city  girls  who  can  ride   finely." 

"  Yes }  There  is  my  filly  just  come  down  to 
the  gate.  Isn't  she  a  beauty !  Do  you  ride,  sir } 
I  mean  do  you  really  love  a  horse  1  A  horse  that 
really  knows  and  loves  you  as  my  Nell  does 
me  .•* "  all  of  which  questions  came  forth  in  child- 
like carelessness,  the  speaker  apparently  uncon- 
scious that  any  one  of  them  might  seem  sugges- 
tive of  an  invitation   to   this   strange  young   man 


X8  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

She  was  all  eyes  for  the  pretty  little  mare  who 
was  whinnying  restlessly  at  the  gate  of  the 
lane  at  sight  of  her  young  mistress.  She  now 
began  waving  one  of  those  white,  round  arms  at 
the   animal  gleefully. 

"  Yes,  that  is  a  fine  animal.  Yes,  I  like  a 
good,  true-hearted  horse,  as  I  do  any  other  of  God's 
creatures  which  is  good  and  true.  Yes,  I  ride.  Then 
you  never  saw  me  pass  here  on  my  lonely  way  ? " 

He  looked  hard  enough  at  her  with  this  last 
remark;  but  it  was  decidedly  too  pointed.  She 
had  given  the  hat,  veil,  and  all,  another  deft 
touch  by  this   time. 

And  really,  now,  the  rural  beauty  began  to 
see  that  she  had  gone  quite  far  enough  even 
for  rural  hospitality.  Had  she  invited  him  to 
take  a  gallop  with -her .?  No;  she  was  sure  she 
had  not.  Had  she  been  airing  her  accomplish- 
ments before  him  1  No ;  she  had  not  told  him 
that  she  could  paint,  nor  speak  French,  nor  that 
she  knew  how  to  dress,  nor  that  she  had  grad- 
uated at  that  school  so  briefly  mentioned;  a 
school,  by  the  way,  which  has  to  this  day  no 
superior  for  young  ladies,  if  it  is  located  in  a 
certain  country  village.  No  ;  she  had  only 
thought,  in  intense  self-consciousness,  **  I  wod- 
der  if  he  knows  or    imagines  ? " 


SHE   WAS  A   FARMER. 


19 


And  the  reader  must  not  charge  Laura  with 
conceit  either.  I  have  betrayed  her  secret 
thoughts.  What  young  woman  of  two  and  twenty 
is  not  intensely  self-conscious  under  the  eyes  of 
a  fine  young  fellow  like  Mark  Broon  ?  And 
then,  too,  had  she  indeed  not  seen  him  pass  on 
his  '4onely  way"  more  than  once?  Many  a  knight 
goes  in  and  out  a  young  lady's  air-castles  in  the 
course  of  months  of  day-dreams.  But  her  best 
vindication  against  conceit  is  the  peculiar  suspi- 
cion, of  being  considered  unsophisticated  and 
<^  verdant  as  the  hills,"  which  country  people 
harbor  towards  their  city  visitors.  You  must 
confess  that  you  wouldn't  like  to  be  patronized 
even  as  a  "rural  beauty."  I  don't  charge  Mark 
Broon  with  attempting  it ;  I  only  say  that  she  was 
resolved  that  he  had  better  not  attempt  it,  re- 
solved long  ago,  if  it  should  ever  chance  that 
they   met. 

He  stood  now  opening  the  little  white  wicket 
to  the  gravelled  walk  which,  bordered  with  flowers, 
ran   down   from   the   low   white   farm-house. 

"What  a  lovely  spot  you  have  made  of  this," 
he  said,  glancing  up  at  the  cosy  dwelHng. 
■'Nothing  can  exceed  the  grace  of  vines, —  those 
running  over  the  dormer  of  a  stoop,  as  I  believe 
you  Yankees    call    the    porch,    and   all  about    the 


20  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

front  door.  There  is  character  in  that  building, 
Miss  Lane.  I'll  watrant  you  it  looks  just  like 
the  man  who  built   it;    your  father,    perhaps." 

"Yes;  papa  and  grandpa.  That  old  part  was 
grandpa's  work;  this  extension  is  my  father's. 
I  know  what  you  mean.  All  city  houses  look 
just  alike.  We  all  are  wondering  what  your 
splendid  house  will  look  like." 

She  had  not  yet  stepped  through  the  gate, 
but  stood  close  up'  beside  him,  as  the  hedge 
and  a  hitching  post  compelled  her.  A  splendid 
match    for  him  in   stature  was    she. 

"I  do  beg  the  privilege  of  inviting  you  to  in- 
spect Eagleroost  for  yourself,"  said  he  promptly, — 
"you  and  Mrs.  Lane.  Indeed,  I  shall  have  a 
house-warming  for  all  my  neighbors,  if  they  will 
do  me  the  honor." 

After  that  it  would  not  do  to  omit  it,  she 
decided  at   once. 

"Thank  you.  But  will  you  come  in  and  meet 
my  mamma  now  ?  Oh,  I  forgot,  mamma's  head- 
ache day!"  and  she  was  quite  at   a  loss  again. 

But  he  helped  her  quick  enough  by  saying, 
"You  might  invite  me  to  the  cheese  room  and 
feed  me  on  fresh  curd.  Did  you  ever  know  a 
boy  who  wasn't  wild  over  cheese  curd  ? " 

"I  could  tell  you  more  about  girls  and  cheese," 


SHE  WAS  A   PARMER,  21 

she  responded  with  a  pretty  laugh,  and  passed 
on  before  him,  saying,  "  I  certainly  will  give  you 
a  real  fresh  taste.     This  way,  please." 

They  turned  to  the  right,  and  walked  directly 
down  to  the  extreme  end  of  the  yard ;  through 
flocks  of  geese  which  spread  their  snowy  wings 
and  hissed  a  protest  as  they  swept  disdainfully 
towards  the  bams ;  through  rear-guard  of  turkeys, 
most  of  which  were  too  young  to  "gobble,  gob- 
ble," though  gobblers  there  were ;  through  a 
bevy  of  hens  and  chickens,  which  cackled  across 
the  ample  lawn ;  and  finally  making  their  way 
straight  across  the  lawn  itself,  as  smooth  as 
velvet,  as  rich  as  any  suburban  stretch  of  green 
you  ever  saw,  and  bordered  with  roses,  well- 
stocked,  though  hardly  flowering  yet,  it  being 
early   May. 

In  a  moment  more  they  were  in  the  clean, 
cool  cheeze-room.  He  had  removed  his  hat 
instinctively,  as  if  he  had  entered  a  parlor.  She 
had  snatched  off  hers,  and  lo,  the  glorious  blond 
hair,  on  which  the  morning  sunlight,  through  the 
eastern  window,  was  entrancingly  falling !  She 
was  soon  stooping  and  lifting,  setting  this  tub 
aside  and  that,  the  strong  and  shapely  arms 
bared  to  the  shoulder.  If  he  had  known  how 
to  assist  her,  he  yet  doubtless  could  not  for 
very  admiration  of   her. 


^2  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

Of  course  this  eating  cheese  curd  together, 
and  cheese  of  her  own  make,  too,  —  think  of 
that  fact !  —  soon  broke  down  the  convention- 
alities altogether.  That  is,  I  mean,  eating  cheese 
curd  from  a  pretty  girl's  fingers,  as  you  have  to, 
unless  you  can  trust  your  own  unskilled  and  per- 
haps unwashed  fingers  to  guide  the  palpitating 
morsel,  is  the  best  possible  introduction.  By 
the  time  he  had  tasted  and  complimented  to  his 
satisfaction,  and  hers  respectively,  these  two 
honest-hearted  young  people  were  no  longer 
strangers.  As  they  emerged  from  the  house  it 
seemed  quite  proper  for  her  to  invite  him  to 
call  at  any  time  —  of  course  for  the  same  pur- 
pose, the  fresh  cheese.  They  were  merry  almost 
to  gaiety,  uttering  little  pleasantries  as  they  were 
about   to   part  at  the  foot   of  the  garden. 

"But  I  suppose  I  shall  see  you  at  church  to- 
morrow,"  he  said. 

She  turned  on  him  quickly  with  evident  sur- 
prise. Church  ?  Was  this  handsome  cavalier 
from  the  great,  gay  city  observant  of  the  Sab- 
bath's approach,  and  so  punctihous  for  church 
worship  that  he  proposed  to  perform  it  in  that 
unpretending  little  village  affair.?  Certainly  it 
was  the  last  thing  in  her  thoughts  of  him. 
"But,   of  course,*'   she   said    instantly,   to    herself, 


SHE    WAS  A   FARMER.  23 

Knowing  the  custom  of  country  lovers,  "it  is 
only  as  a  convenient  trysting  place  that  he  men- 
tions it.  If  I  tell  the  truth  I  shall  not  displease 
this  young  man  of  the  world."  After  which, 
casting  him  a  merry  glance,  yet  a  searching  one, 
she  said: 

"Why,  no,  Mr.  Broon.  Mamma  entertains  small 
favor  for  the  Orthodox  church.  I  go  occasionally; 
but  while  I  don't  quite  believe  as  mamma  does, 
yet  I'm  very  happy  all  the  day  long,  as  my  life 
is  now ;  and  —  and  don't  need  to  —  well,  it  is  so 
soon,   and  —  " 

Poor  thing!  Her  face  lost  its  smiles,  word  by 
word,  as  she  noted  the  grave  cast  of  uncon- 
cealed astonishment  which  shadowed  his.  Her 
reply,  half  attempting  to  give  reasons  and  in- 
tended probably  to  advance  into  confident  argu- 
ment, as  was  the  custom  with  the  proper  young 
men  of  the  region  and  the  shocked  old  clergy- 
man of  the  village,  could  not  maintain  itself  in 
that  vein  before  Mark's  thoughtful  eyes.  She 
began  to  pull  a  rose  to  pieces,  and,  to  her  own 
surprise,  to  almost  hope  that  he  would  go  with- 
out reply. 

Laura  Lane  was  not  the  first  to  be  impressed, 
and  strangely  overawed  by  that  peculiar  look 
now   resting  on   Mark    Broon's    fine    face.       Mag 


24 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


nanimous,  yet  not  commanding  ;  pure  even  to 
severity,  yet  kind ;  it  was  a  look  of  pain,  more* 
over,  in  this  case ;  and  while  she  watched  it 
with  demure  glances,  she  noticed  that  its  spir- 
ited first  flashes  faded  into  a  shyness,  as  if  be  was 
disposed  to  retreat  from  some  evil  influence  and 
injury.  Or,  it  might  be  that  he  was  too  gallant 
to  enter  on  debate  with  her  and,  by  effort,  was 
restraining  himself.  At  all  events  she  was  sure 
of  two  things :  that  she  had  not  enhanced  his 
good  opinion  of  herself,  —  for  which  was  she  cer- 
tain that  she  cared  ?  and  that  he  would  not  con- 
tinue the  conversation  upon  the  religious  topic, 
as  most  religious  people  whom  she  had  met 
seemed  to  think  they  must  do  for  her  rescue. 
Indeed,  she  concluded  that  undoubtedly  he  was. 
that,  to  her,  inexplicable  creature,  a  rich,  edu- 
cated  and  pious  young   man. 

Recovering  now  his  fascinating  manner,  he 
said,  "■  Very  well,  no  doubt  we  shall  encounter 
each  other  on  the  road,  if  nowhere  else.  By 
the  way,  may  I  not  call  for  you  Monday  morn 
ing  for  a  gallop  over  these  hills  ?  You  shal 
show  me  many  a  mountain  path  whi'*.!!  even  1 
have   not   explored." 

She    might     possibly    have    done    \\    made    the 
appointment    on    the    impulse    of     o     confidence 


SHE    WAS   A   FARMER, 


25 


which  Mark  Broon  inspired  in  all  who  met  him. 
And  yet  I  venture  that  she  would  have  found 
some  other  excuse,  had  not  her  mother  just  then 
most  opportunely  thrown  open  the  blind  of  the 
low  embowered  window  which  opened  into  her 
retired  room,  and  shown  her  pale,  interesting  face 
thereat. 

"  Mamma,  did  you  think  me  lost  ? "  This  in  a 
silvery  shout.  Then  to  Mr.  Broon,  **Come,  I  will 
introduce   you  most   informally." 

The  visitor  was  glad  to  find  this  added  way 
into  the  good  graces  of  the  family.  The  lan- 
guid lady,  most  unlike  the  robust  farmer's 
widow  and  successful  manager  of  these  flourish- 
ing acres  which  he  had  pictured  to  himself, 
greeted  him  kindly;  had  of  course  heard  of  him, 
through  the  village  newspaper  gossip;  was  not 
always  as  poorly  as  he  saw  her  to-day;  indeed, 
was  expecting  the  physician  any  moment ;  yes, 
there  was  his  carriage  approaching  over  the 
hill.  Would  Mr.  Broon  call  again,  and  continue 
the  acquaintance  so  casually  begun  ?  and  yet  it 
was  a  guarded  welcome.  So  much  so,  the 
shrewd  woman,  that  he  hardly  knew  why, 
young  Broon  did  not  venture  to  prefer  to  the 
mother  the  request  that  the  daughter  had  evi 
dently  referred  to  her. 


26  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

The  physician's  carriage  now  being  at  the 
the  block,  Broon  touched  his  hat  and  was 
about  to  go.  But  to  his  surprise,  instead  of 
entering  the  house,  the  younger  lady  ofifered  to 
lead  him  by  another  exit  towards  the  highway. 
Her  lead,  though  delicate,  and  with  no  verbal 
expression,  was  decided  and  unmistakable.  Mark 
yielded  to  It.  They  passed  away  from  the  path 
by  which   the   physician   would   enter. 

"  Do  you  know,  our  —  or  that  is,  mamma's 
physician.?  I  mean,"  she  continued  with  an 
unmistakable  little  flutter  of  apprehension,  "did 
you   ever   hear   of   him   in   the   city  ? " 

"In  New  York.?  Which  is  he.?"  replied  Mark, 
turning  to  see  two  gentlemen,  one  of  say  sixty 
years,  and  standing  idly  waiting;  the  other  a 
young  man  perhaps  five  and  twenty,  who  was 
hitching  the   horse. 

"The  elder  man  is  the  doctor.  Smiles  is  his 
name,"  said  she.  Her  face  was  strikingly  pale  ; 
her  voice  sounded  timid,  and  her  words  hesitat- 
ing.    "The   other  is   his  son,  Erastus." 

No;  Mark  had  never  heard  of  "the  great  Dr. 
Smiles."  Had  her  mother  found  him  remarkably 
skilful .?  What  was  his  peculiarity  ?  Or  why  did 
she  ask .?  But  of  course  he  might  be  quite  igno- 
rant  of   the   most   famous   physician    without  that 


SHE    WAS  A    FARMER.  27 

being  to  the  man's  prejudice,  having  himself  no 
remembrance  of  ever  having  been  sick  enough 
to  call    one. 

She  was  now  opening  the  gate  for  him.  Her 
hand  fumbled  at  even  that  familiar  latch.  As 
he  bent  to  help  her,  their  hands  touched  acci- 
dentally. .  Hers  were  as  cold  as  ice.  All  the 
light  and  laughter,  moreover,  had  gone  out  of 
that  wonderful  face.  It  wore  an  aspect  of  inde- 
scribable  distress. 

Had  he  known  her  but  a  few  days,  instead  of 
less  than  a  few  hours,  he  would  have  offered  her 
the  comfort  of  a  direct,  "What  is  the  matter?" 
But  as  it  was,  he  only  looked  it ;  and  feeling 
the  delicacy  of  the  situation,  was  about  to  even 
hasten  his  departure.  But  the  young  girl's  eyes 
seemed  fairly  to  cling  to  him,  as  if  for  protec- 
tion ;  yet,  with  great  self-control,  she  merely  re- 
marked : 

"You  seemed  to  wonder  that  we  never  went 
to  church.  We  have  too  much  religion,  such  as 
it  is,  at    home." 

*'  Too   much  religion  ? " 

"That   man  is   a   religious   healer." 

"A  what?" 

"Indeed,  I  know  not  how  else  to  characterize 
him,     sir.       He     heals    by  —  by   spiritualistic    pro- 


28  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

cesses.  Oh,  oh,  what  have  I  said!  And  yet 
have  you  never  heard  of  the  widow  Lane's  'super- 
stition,* as  the  villagers  call  it  ? " 

And  before  Broon  could  answer,  the  girl  had 
flown,  like  some  white-winged  thing,  up  through 
the  garden  shrubbery,  and  disappeared  from  his 
sight 


DR,  SMILES  AND  HIS  SON,  29 


11. 

DR.  SMILES  AND  HIS   SON. 

U  T    TELL  you,  father,  it  will  not  work!" 

"*"  "What  will  not  work,  my  dear  Erastus?" 
answered  Dr.  Smiles  with  soft  and  rising  inflection 
and  exasperatingly  calm. 

The  elder  man  reclined  in  the  easiest  chair  the 
little  hotel  could  afford.  He  rested  his  elbows 
on  its  arms,  and  put  the  tips  of  his  fingers 
together,  one  by  one,  beginning  with  the 
thumbs,  which  could  be  turned  back  almost  in  a 
half  circle. 

The  son  took  another  turn  up  and  down  the 
parlor,  which  the  famous  doctor  had  hired  for 
his  exclusive  use,  not  minding  the  price,  and 
which  he  improvised  as  an  office  during  his 
short  and  lucrative  tarry  among  these  ailing 
country  folk.  His  monopoly  of  the  best  room  in 
the  only  Bethlehem  hotel  open  at  this  season 
of  the  year,  was  not  a  bad  advertisement  either. 
It  discommoded  everybody,  and  these  were  the 
days  when  the  represenatives  of  not  a  few  wealthy 


3c  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

invalids  from  the  cities  were  up  here  prospecting 
for  White  Mountain  summer  board.  But  the  good 
doctor  was  by  no  means  averse  to  combining  busi- 
ness with  pleasure.  His  vast  city  patronage  gen- 
erally began  to  tell  on  even  his  iron  endurance  by 
spring.  Experience  had  shown  him  that  severe 
winters,  a  salt  pork  diet,  and  sparse  physicians 
over  these  vast  and  noble  hills,  made  eager  wel- 
come for  ''the  healer."  He  came,  moreover, 
with   a   sounding   of  trumpets. 

Perhaps  one  had  better  not  venture  to  give, 
yet,  the  greatest  reason  for  his  welcome.  You 
would  not  call  a  Yankee  an  easy  dupe  in  a 
trade.  He  is  not  over  credulous  in  a  horse  bar- 
gain. He  has  been  the  boldest  critic  of  sena- 
tors, the  most  doughty  defender  of  liberty,  and 
the  ablest  legislator  for  equal  rights  in  all  our 
national  history.  Perish  the  hand  that  writes  an 
untruth  against  my  fathers,  of  whom  I  count 
seven  generations  to  the  soil  born !  Yet  I  dare 
write  it  that  New  England  has  been  good  soil 
for  the  growth  of  superstitions  and  ''heresies." 
Of  all  the  grotesque  beliefs  of  the  civilized 
world,  where  will  you  find  more  strange  than  in 
some  of  those  villages  where  warring  sects  of 
orthodoxy  have  impoverished  each  other.?  A  vil- 
lage  of   fifteen   hundred    souls,   all    told,    and   four 


DR.   SMILES  AND  HIS  SON.  31 


different  denominations  struggling  to  see  whose 
church  spire  shall  first  crumble  with  red  rot  to 
the  ground.  Four  devoted  clergymen  fighting 
starvation,  and  only  escaping  by  a  liberal  contri- 
bution of  "hay,  if  they  cut  it  themselves,"  pump- 
kins  and  potatoes,  corn  and  squashes,  loaded  into 
the  bags  they  carry  in  pastoral  rounds,  "dona- 
tions" scrupulously  charged  in  settling  the  salary 
at  the  year's  end,  and  other  humiliating  begging 
in  broadcloth!  Farmers  pious  and  high-minded, 
the  noblest  of  the  earth,  there  are.  Yet  othcx 
farmers,  like  the  literal  heathen,  who  never  think 
of  attending  the  distant  village  church,  who  have 
quietly  slipped  away  from  the  old  beliefs,  some- 
times with  thought,  and  yet  oftener  with  no 
verdict  of  the  mmd.  Merely  blank  to  faith,  and 
given  to  the  hard  grind  for  a  pinched  fortune. 
Often  indifferent,  often  bitterly  hating  the  Chris- 
tianity they  have  rejected,  and  ready  victims  for 
religious  adventurers.  A  man  who  believes  noth- 
ing is  preparing  to  believe  anything.  Dr. 
Smiles  is  intending  to  erect  his  "Great  Cura- 
tive Religious  Sanitarium"  up  here,  and  if  he 
-does   he   may   make   it   pay. 

"What  will  not  do,  my  son?"  again  asked 
the  doctor,  as  the  young  man  stood  yet  silent 
and   gazing   out   on   the   blue   mountains. 


32  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"Why,  this  plan  of  yours  regarding  Laura  Lane 
and  myself,"  responded  the  youth,  with  an 
abrupt  turn.  **Here  I  am  graduated.  For  a 
good  year  I  threw  myself  not  a  little  in  her 
society,  by  visiting  my  sisters  at  the  same 
school  with  her.  But  the  girls  will  tell  you  that 
she  abominates  me,  except  when  you  are  present. 
We  renew  the  siege  up  here  now  for  a  month, 
and  all  the  advantages  mine;  but  it  is  evident 
to  me  that  that  young  Broon — whom  I  used  to 
know,   by  the   way,   at   college — " 

" Indeed ! " 

"Yes.  Never  would  acknowledge  me  though, 
by  more  than  a  distant  bow,  and  has  not  about 
the  village  here;  did  not  the  day  we  first  set 
eyes  on  each  other  up  here  that  time  at  the 
widow's.  Well,  he  makes  progress  with  her, 
or  can  if  he  wishes,  as  I  am  hardly  certain 
yet  that  he  does ;  and  if  he  hesitates  I  believe 
it  is  on  account  of  your  intimacy  with  the 
family.  He's  rich,  and  besides  being  rich, 
Broon   is — " 

But  the  young  gentleman  did  not  conclude 
his  sentence.  Instead,  he  .  resumed  his  fretted 
stride  up  and  down  the  long  room,  the  frail 
floor  trembling  under  his  feet,  the  faded  and 
dusty    three-ply    carpet    but    feebly    muffling    his 


DR,   SMILES  AND  HIS  SON.  33 

stalwart  tread.  Yet  he  knew  that  time  served 
for  this  important  conference;  the  "office  hours" 
were  over  for  the  day ;  the  last  patient  had  re- 
tired, and  the  paternal  wallet  was  well  fattened 
that   morning. 

After  a  while  the  son  paused  on  his  heel  at  the 
opposite  end  of  the  great  center-table,  and  thrust 
his  hands  down  yet  a  little  deeper  into  his  trou- 
sers' pockets.  As  he  did  not  even  yet  offer  to  fin- 
ish his  last  sentence,  his  father  coolly  studied  him 
over  the  tips  of  his  bent  thumbs.  He  could 
not  say  that  his  son  was  fine  looking.  Indeed, 
it  occurred  to  the  sire  that  his  Erastus  had  rather 
grown  in  ill-favoredness  of  late.  He  confessed  to 
himself  that  the  boy's  hair  was  too  light  —  it 
was  flaxen  —  and  his  heavy  moustache  •  too  dark 
—  it  was  large  and  jet  black,  upon  honor,  reader. 
His  own  father  smiled  cynically  at  such  a  curi- 
osity, one  black  eye  and  one  decidedly  blue. 
The  forehead  was  lumpy,  yet  decidedly  intellect- 
ual. The  young  man  had  a  scholarly  air,  and 
looked  like  anything  but  a  business  man,  the 
calling  proposed  to  himself  and  agreed  upon  in 
the  family  councils.  Everything  in  this  group 
was  agreed  upon  in  family  council.  Tall,  broad- 
shouldered,  with  a  waist  like  a  long  meal  sack, 
he    spread    his    well-dressed    legs    apart  —  indeed, 


54  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


his  whole  dress  was  in  the  extreme  of  fashion 
—  and  stood  looking  at  his  father,  out  of  his 
blue   eye   particularly,    and   yet   said   nothing. 

"  Well,  Erastus,"  —  the  thumbs  and  fingers  to 
the  front,  —  "  you  say  Broon  has  something  else 
besides  money  to  recommend  him  to  Miss  Lane. 
What  else.?" 

"A  bright  mind,  for  instance,"  faltered  Eras- 
tus, 

The  paternal  thumbs  seemed  to  ask,  "What 
else.?" 

"And  a  royal  good  heart,  though  I  do  hate 
him!" 

Thumbs   were   not  yet   satisfied. 

"  And   a  fine   person ;   he's   handsome." 

Thumbs  rolled  very  far  back  by  the  long  white 
forefingers  of  each  hand  in  turn,  still  question- 
ing. 

"  Well,  father,  Fd  rather  not  say  what  else 
straight   to   your  face." 

One  thumb  was  now  bent  over  till  it  touched 
the  wrist.  The  other  strange  fingers  were  all  in 
air.  The  coal-black  eyes  of  Dr.  Smiles  glistened 
through  the  forest  of  his  own  fingers,  and  fire 
seemed  to  stream  from  them.  The  son  was 
accustomed  to  the  spell,  but  yet  he  grew  hot  in 
the    glare.      AH    the    while    the    older    face    was 


DR.  SMILES  AND  HIS  SON,  35 

wreathed  in  its  own  peculiar  tranquil  smile. 
Not  a  word,  however,  from  behind  the  bush  of 
iron-gray  whiskers   and   moustache. 

**  Well,  if  you  will  have  it,  father,  Broon  has 
family  station  in  the  city.  His  father  is  not  a 
—  not   a  —  " 

"  Quack,   my  son } "   softly  spoke  Dr.    Smiles. 

**  Heavens  !  my  father !  I  have  knocked  a  man 
down  for  connecting  that  word  with  your  name ! " 
Erastus  brought  his  great  hand  out  of  pocket 
and  crashed  it  down  on  the  table.  His  pale 
face  flushed  scarlet  as  he  continued,  **  You  know, 
father,  that  we  all  reverence  you.  To  us  you 
are  a  divine  man.  But  there  is  no  use  talking ; 
the  wicked  world  don't  believe  in  your  —  in 
your  —  art  and  science.  So  much  the.  worse  for 
the  world,  say  you  ?  Yes,  because  you  dwell  in 
the  sublime  heights  of  Parnassus,  among  the 
gods,  sir.  But  we,  the  children,  your  daughters, 
and  I,  your  only  son,  we  dwell  among  mankind. 
We^  feel   the   sneer." 

"  Sneers,    Erastus  }  '* 

The  words  came  from  the  elder  man's  moveless 
face  as  blue  flame  leaps  up  from  a  spirit  lamp. 
There  was  no  burst  of  anger.  It  was  a  quiet, 
unconquerable  contempt  for  the  world's  sneer.  It 
was  imperturbable  sneer  for  sneer ;   and  you   felt 


36  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

that  this  one   sneer  could   out-hiss   the  combined 
world. 

"I  know,  I  know,"  said  the  son,  plunging 
into  pockets  again,  and  pacing  the  room  while 
he  addressed  the  three-ply  underfoot.  "  But  we 
children  cannot  laugh  back  at  mankind  as  you 
can ;  for  we  do  not  victimize  them.  We  meet 
it  everywhere,  that  we  are  a  family  of  adventur- 
ers. Not  so  bad  if  we  were  succeeding.  You 
make  money  out  of  the  weakness  of  mankind, 
but   I    cannot    as    a    merchant ;    your    daughters 

cannot.     It  was   a  mistake,  our  moving  to  S . 

It  is  too  small  a  city.  New  York  was  better. 
In  New  York  people  do  not  scrutinize  so 
closely,    for    there    everybody    is    on    the    make. 

But   in    S ,   though   you   grow  rich    as    Ned, 

yet  society  is  closed  to  you  and  us.  And  Laura 
Lane's  kindred  in  that  city  are  —  well,  you  know 
the  mayor  is  her  uncle,  and  a  bucolic  ex-gov- 
ernor is  another  uncle.  I.^  There  isn't  a  ghost 
of  a  chance  for  me  with  the   girl,;  unless  — " 

"Unless  I  compel  her,  eh.?"  broke  in  the 
good  doctor,"  as  he  unwound  his  long  legs  and 
reached  for  a  cigar.  He  began  smoking  and 
went  on  to   say : 

**  Erastus,  my  hopeful,  I  must  help  you.  -  I  will. 
I    am    devoted    to    my  family.     Imagine    yourself 


DR.   SMILES  AND  HIS  SON. 


37 


at    our    home    in    S .     Look    about    you;  not 

many  physicians,  however  regular"  —  and  there 
was  another  shoot  of  the  spirit-lamp  flame  playing 
about  that  word,  "regular," — "are  lodged  like  me. 
Is  not  our  house  a  petit  palace?  Do  we  not 
live  like  princes?  I  tell  you,  it  pays,  Erastus, 
this  quackery,  though  I  spurn  the  word.  What's 
in  a  name,  boy?  It  brings  clean  money.  Men 
lift  their  hats  to  me,  and  women  employ  me. 
I'll  marry  my  girls  off  to  advantage,  be  sure 
of  that  ;  and  you  shall  have  Laura  Lane. 
D'  ye  hear?  Mrs.  Lane  is  a  good  soul.  I  find 
the  girl  herself  not  altogether  intractable;  she 
obeys  me.  She  visits  at  S .  S is  bet- 
ter than  New  York  because  it  is  certain  miles 
from  New  York.  You  are  dull ;  was  I  not  well 
known  in  New  York  as  an  unsuccessful  school- 
teacher, and  a  very  zealot  in  the  church,  before 
I  went  into  the  present  business  —  profession  I 
mean?  And  now  this  family,  this  proud,  virtu- 
ous, benevolent,  rich  family  of  Broon !  Capt. 
Broon.  Yes."  More  burning  spirits.  "Why,  sir, 
I  can  put  my  thumb  on  him,  if  I  set  about  it, 
like  that!''  The  speaker  pressed  his  right 
thumb  to  the  table,  and  rolled  it  slowly  through 
its  half  circle,  as  if  it  were  the  wheel  of 
fate. 


38  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

"How?" 

"  How  ?  Why,  how  do  I  effect  my  purposes  ? " 
The  doctor  did  here  deign  to  regard  the  world's 
ears  enough  to  glance  about  the  room  to  make 
sure  none  of  the  world's  many  ears  were  within 
hearing  distance,  when,  leaning  forward,  half  his 
weight  on  that  thumb,  he  continued,  '*I  have  in. 
fluence  with  men.-  It  is  not  money  influence,  nor 
political,  nor  social.  Yet  where  is  the  man  who 
can  resist  me  ?  You  know  how  men  melt 
like  wax  before  my  eye,  and  under  my  promises 
of  restored  health.  Capt.  Broon  indeed !  Young 
Mark  Broon  indeed !  Mayors  and  governors 
indeed !  " 

Harder  and  harder  pressed  the  thumb  upon 
the  poor  table  at  each  exclamation,  till  the  pine 
wood  trembled,  and  the  unremoved  lamp,  borne 
up  by  a  mimic  Hercules,  fairly  shook  the  glass 
shade  it  supported.  Presently  the  wick  might 
almost  be  lighted  by  the  fire  from  those  black 
glances. 

''And  yet,  father,  it  is  not  every  disease  that 
you   can   cure.** 

''What,   for  instance .!>" 

"A   broken   heart,   for   instance,   father." 

"  I  don't  catch  your  meaning,"  and  he  set- 
tled back  into  the  great   chair,  smoking  at   ease, 


DR.   SMILES  AND  HIS  SON.  39 

as  if  the  meaning  could  be  of  no  account  if 
caught. 

"  Why,  suppose  this  glorious  girl  is  compelled 
to  assent  some  day,  when  all's  ready,  to  the 
calling  of  a  clergymen  into  her  mother's  parlor ; 
is  compelled  by  your  power  over  her  to  say  yes 
to  the  marriage  ceremony,  what  then  ?  She  is 
to  be  my  wife,  and  not  yours.  When  you  are 
out  of  sight,  what }  She'll  die  upon  my  hands, 
sir,  of  a  broken  heart.  Oh,  'tis  too  desperate 
a   game,    father.     I   will   not    go    on." 

**  Oh,  yes  you  will,  Erastus."  This  in  such 
silvery  calmness,  yet  in  such  confidence  of  the 
strange    eyes. 

"True,"  responded  the  son,  sinking  pliantly 
into  a  chair.  "  I  shall  go  on !  I  always  have. 
I,  at  least,  cannot  resist  you,  But  I  shall  go 
on  to  destruction ;  for  you  yourself  know  that 
not  all  persons  are  sensitive  to  your  personal  mag- 
netism. Capt.  Broon  may  not  be.  Mark  Broon, 
I   am  sure,   will   not   be." 

"They  need  not  be,  Erastus;  though  I  doubt 
your  doubts.  I  believe  I  could  win  both  of  them 
if  permitted  sufficient  opportunity.  However,  you 
need  not  strike  a  man  when  you  can  set  another 
at  it.  Our  lives  are  like  threads  in  a  woven 
texture.      Cut    one   and    others    unravel   at   a   dis- 


40  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

tance.  "But  yet,"  he  added  tranquilly,  **what 
need  of  plotting  mischief  against  people  who 
have  not  yet  proved  my  foes  ?  Not  one  of 
these  persons  has  yet  crossed  our  path,  except 
in  your  fruitful  imagination.  As  to  any  favor 
that  Miss  Lane  has  shown  young  Broon,  why, 
didn't  it  drop  out  that  first  day  we  encountered 
him  there,  that  the  wise  mother  disapproved  oi 
the  young  lady's  cordial  hospitality  to  a  per- 
fect stranger  ?  That  shows  you  that  their 
acquaintance  began  not  a  month  ago.  She  rides 
with  him.  Ask  her  to  ride  with  you,  you  dul- 
lard. Oh,  I  wish  I  could  do  your  wooing  for 
you ! " 

"You  will  have  to,  sir,  I  fear,"  said  the  son, 
dropping  into  a  chair  and  covering  his  face  with 
his   hands. 

"  Pshaw,  man ! "  resumed  the  elder  gentleman, 
leaning  forward  and  slyly  touching  the  other's 
hand  with  the  glowing  cigar,  a  mere  touch, 
which  made  the  other  start,  at  which  the  fathei 
laughed.  "  Pshaw,  I  say.  Couldn't  you  see  for 
yourself  that  very  first  day  that  the  rich  widow 
was  on  our  side  .?  And  haven't  you  seen  enough 
of  this  noble  girl  herself  to  know  that  she 
would  give  her  life  to  please  that  mother?  There's 
filial   piety   for  you." 


DR,   SMILES  AND  HIS  SON, 


41 


**  She  is  indeed  a  child  of  most  loyal  love !  " 
exclaimed  the  young  man.  "Her  mother  is  her 
idol.     Her   mother's   wish   is   her   religion," 

*'  Religion .?  Exactly.  There  you  have  it  again. 
The  Lanes  are  sceptics.  And  Broon,  now !  I 
have  seen  the  fellow,  every  Sunday  that  we 
have  been  here,  scrupulously  wending  his  way 
down  the  street  towards  the  churches.  He  must 
be  a  fiery  church  enthusiast.  Do  you  know 
anything   about  it.?" 

**  Oh,  yes.  He  is  all  that  sort  of  thing,"  was 
Erastus'  reply,  as  he  thrust  his  hands  again  into 
his  pockets,  and  pushed  his  legs  under  the 
table.  "  Curious,"  and  a  smile  stole  over  his 
features  at  the  memory.  "  He  was  stroke  oar 
in  the  best  race  we  ever  had,  and  yet  wouldn't 
practice  on  Sunday,  wouldn't  stay  away  from 
church,  wouldn't  bet.  I  don't  believe  that  fellow 
ever  went  to  Fordham  or  Sheepshead  Bay  in  his 
life ;  and  yet  they  say  he  drives  as  good  horses 
as  go  up  Fifth  Avenue.  He  never  was  a  prig 
in  college,  —  mighty  popular.  Of  course  I've  seen 
nothing  of  his  New  York  life  myself ;  but  I  wrote 
young  Dr.  Lathrop  —  you  know  him, — who  is  in 
society  —  that  most  exclusive  society,  I  mean, — 
last  week,  asking  about  my  rival.  He  says,  *He's 
a  tip-top    fellow,    little    odd,    whose    only  trouble 


42  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

is  that  he's  rather  too  nice  in  morals  to  enjoy 
town,  and  too  rich  to  have  any  serious  business 
in  life.*  Lathrop  says,"  and  here  Erastus  fum- 
bled in  his  pocket  for  the  letter  which  he  began 
to  read,  "  that  the  fellows  laugh  a  good  deal 
about  Mark  Broon's  errand  in  life ;  he  is  look- 
ing for  a  mission,  —  that  is,  some  heroic  adven- 
ture, something  more  chivalric  than  adding  to 
the  pile  his  father  will  leave  him.  But  for  all 
that,  he's  a  mighty  fine  chap ;  worthy  to  be 
trusted^  etc.,  etc,"  and  he  folded  up  the  letter 
with,  "Of  course  I  didn't  tefl  Lathrop  why  I 
wanted   to  know." 

Musing  a  while,  the  father  at  length  resumed : 

"  Inexplicable  human  nature !  You  would  sup- 
pose such  a  youth  could  find  what  he  wanted 
nearer  than   this   farm-house." 

"  What }  So  beautiful  a  woman  as  she }  Seri- 
ously, father,  where  did  you  ever  see  such  a 
face,  such  a  farm,  such  wealth,  such  inno- 
cence } " 

"  But  it  all  depends,  I  foresee,"  continued  the 
doctor  yet  musing  and  unheeding  the  interrup- 
tion, "upon  whether  or  not  he  can  impress  this 
fair  unbeliever  with  his  religious  views.  He  is 
evidently  too  sincere  a  man  to  wed  a  sceptic,  how- 
ever beautiful.      Sincere.?    It   is  the  respectability 


DR,   SMILES  AND  HIS  SON. 


43 


of  the  thing  rather  than  sincerity.  It  wouldn't 
be  respectable,  according  to  his  social  circle,  to 
be   joined   to  one   of  my   pupils." 

"But  the  young  lady  is  not  your  disciple," 
said  Erastus,  who  was  keeping  close  track  of 
his   father's   reasoning. 

"Not  exactly;  yet  her   mother  is." 

With  that  they  left  it  for  the  present  and 
went  out  to  take  a  drive.  The  doctor  was  a 
free  liver,  as  most  adventurers  are.  He  had  the 
daily  use  of  the  finest  team  of  horses  to  be 
had  in  that  "horse  country,"  both  for  profes- 
sional  uses   and   excursions   of  pleasure. 

Erastus  held  the  reins  well,  and  they  were 
invariably  given  to  him  while  the  "eminent 
healer,"  as  the  advertisements  styled  him,  leaned 
back  in  the  vehicle  advantageously  poised  alike 
for   public  exhibition  and  personal  ease. 

"Drive  past  the  widow's  place,  my  son,"  said 
the  doctor,  as  the  animals  sprang  away,  "and  I 
will  point  out  to  you  the  eligibility  of  that  hill- 
top for  my  sanitarium." 

A  few  minutes  later,  as  they  slowed  into  a  walk 
past  the  pretty  embowered  cottage,  the  doctor 
said : 

"  There !  You  see  this  commands  the  whole 
village,   and  yet   it  is  a  mere  easy    swell    of    the 


44  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

undulating  valley.  It  would  be  in  full  sight  of  the 
railway  station  and  the  coach  lines.  Everybody 
would  have  it  in  full  view.  A  breezy  spot. 
All  this  maple  grove  at  its  back;  that  lake  just 
over  the  knoll.  Oh,  it  is  the  situation  I  have 
been    searching    for    these    years ! " 

The  son  smiled  at  the  mention  of  years,  for 
it  was  not  yet  five  since  the  parvenu  physician 
was  vexing  his  brains  over  refractory  pupils  and 
the  want  of  them,  in  his  distant  town  school. 
But  the  Smiles  family  indulged  the  figment  on 
the  father's  part,  being  afraid  to  cross  him, 
while  he,  on  his  part,  spoke  of  years  to  accus- 
tom himself  to  the  sound,  and  to  prevent  awk- 
ward  slips  that  might  in  public  betray  his  new- 
ness  in  the  heaUng  art. 

"If  you  were  less  unfortunate  in  Wall  Street, 
father,  —  and,  by-the-way,  do  you  think  it  wise 
for  you  to  dabble  there  so  much  ?  You  have  a 
good   revenue  —  " 

"And  how  long  will  it  continue  so  ? "  was 
the  reply,  "I  know  what  you  mean.  Why  not 
make  hay  while  the  sun  shines,  husband  my 
resources,  and  buy  the  place  out  and  out,  or 
give  up  the  scheme  altogether,  confining  myself 
to  private  practice  ?  But  I  must  spend  freely ; 
it  comes  natural  to   me,   and  was   so  to  you  and 


DR,  SMILES  AND  HIS  SON.  45 


the  children;   and   life   is   short,    and   heretofore  — 
I   mean   years    ago  — life   was    pinched    and    poor 
enough.     Let's   enjoy,   say   I !     As   to  the  revenue 
of  private    practice    such    as    mine,    it's     mighty 
uncertain.     I   must   continue  to   startle  the  people. 
I   must  have  my  great    Sanitarium.     As  to  buying 
out   and  out  what   I   can   get   as   a  free   gift,  per- 
haps,—  who   knows   what    the    benevolent    widow 
may  do  for   suffering   humanity,  and  hi,  memoriam 
of    the    departed    Lane?    There!     My    idea    is," 
and   he   sat   up    to   indicate   with    his    finger    the 
advantages    which    the   widow's    present    dwelling 
presented    for    a    beginning,  "to     start     off    with 
this    very   structure.     It    is    itself    an    ample    old 
affair   and   finely   built.      Fill    this    up    first    with 
patients.      Then    erect    the    larger    building    just 
beyond   there." 

And  as  the  spirited  colts  began  to  be  impa- 
tient, descending  the  finely  sloping  road  beyond, 
they  were  soon  sweeping  round  the  little  lake 
and  along  the  winding  river,  which  added  feat- 
ures of  the  landscape's  desirability  for  their  pur- 
poses, engrossed  them  afresh,  as  it  had  many 
times  before  now. 


46  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


III. 

CAPTAIN   BROON  AND   HIS  SON. 

A  yTARK  BROON  did  meet  Laura  Lane  at 
^^ ^  the  little  village  church  on  the  Sunday 
following  his  informal  call  at  her  mother's,  and 
on  several  other  Sundays  succeeding.  The  vil- 
lagers remarked  her  presence,  made  all  sorts  of 
guesses  as  to  the  reason  why,  and  finally  hit 
upon  the  correct  one.  Indeed,  that  was  evident 
enough  after  a  little  time,  for  she  and  "the 
young  city  feller  '*  usually  found  each  other  at 
the  service's  close,  and  walked  away  side  by 
side   towards   her   home. 

"She'll  turn  Orthodox  quick  'nough,  now," 
said  old  deacon  Pitkins,  one  day,  as  he  observed 
the  couple  depart.  And  the  old  man  drew  out 
his  jack-knife,  cutting  off  a  fresh  quid  of  Black 
Jack  with  a  smile  of  satisfaction.  "I've  mourned 
arter  the  backslidin'  of  widder  Lane  and  Zion's 
'ioss  long  while.  But  that  ar  young  Broon's 
sound,  an'll  fetch  the  hull  family  back.  Fresh 
chaw,  brother  Bodely }  Tackle  a  fresh  chaw  ? " 
extending   his   plug  to   his   associate   deacon. 


CAPTAIN  BROON  AND  HIS  SON 


47. 


"I  don't  know  'bout  that,"  responded  deacon 
Bodely;  not  about  the  "fresh  chaw,"  which  he 
accepted  readily,  and  with  a  surprised  glance  at 
the  unusual  generosity  born  of  a  great,  though 
he  feared,  a  deceitful  hopefulness.  Then,  casting 
a  look  round  at  the  weather  as  they  descended 
the  steps  towards  the  horse-sheds  and  their  noon 
whittling,   brother   Bodely   interjected : 

"Pesky  dry!  No  hay  year.  Dry's  punk  up  our 
way.  No,  I  don't  know  'bout  that  fine  gal's 
bein'  brought  back  tew  the  church  by  mere 
courtin'.  Ah,  the  dess'lations  of  Zion  by  these 
ere  nothin'arian  beliefs !  Speret'lism  and  back- 
slidin's  hard  tew  rut  eout.  Besides,  I  see  that 
ere  new-fangled  healer  a-hangin'  round  the  wid- 
der's  a  gud  deal.  His  son  is  arter  the  gal 
tew." 

"No  doubt, — deacon,  — "  replied  Mr.  Pitkins. 
"But,"  —  (The  dashes  shall  represent  shots  at  the 
mullein  stalks  which  grew  temptingly  within  spit- 
ting distance  of  the  venerable  pair  on  a  dropped 
rail  of  the  fence  near  the  sheds.  And  they 
were  venerable,  reader,  if  genuine  rugged  and 
severe  sectarian  loyalty  is  venerable  when  the 
piety  is  nearly  dead.)  "But — you  can  see  this 
ere  fine  young  Broon  —  giv  us  a  subscription  of 
a  hundred   dollars   easy   as   a  wink   last  week  fur 


48  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

paintin'  the  spire  —  you  can  see  him  a  ridin' 
hossback — with  that  sweet-as-a-picter  Miss  Lane 
putty   often  —  " 

"Yes.  He's  trying  tew  plow  with  that  heifer 
if  he  can.  I'd  like  ter  see  him  git  her.  She's 
wuth   savin'   tew  the   cause." 

And  yet  they  were  good  neighbors,  good 
farmers  and  good  members  as  things  went  in 
the  village  churches  where  "the  cause"  meant 
little  more  than  sustaining  the  temporalities  of 
a   church   dying   or   dead    spiritually. 

"He's  a  marster  feller  fur  lively  meetin's,  is 
this  Broon,"  resumed  "father"  Pitkins.  "He 
axed  me  t'other  day — ef  our  prayer-meetin's 
ware  alius  as  dead  as  the  one  he  was  in  Wednes- 
day night   afore  —  " 

"  Leetle  sprung,  deacon  }  jest  a  leetle  ?  " 
asked  deacon  Bodely,  who  had  soon  walked  over 
to   the   sheds   where    the   horses    stood. 

"  No !  Folded  so !  sure's  preachin',  brother. 
You  can  ax  the  parson — ef  that  colt's  fore  leg 
was  ever  different.  Feel  her  all  over.  Go  right 
ahead  —  wanted  to  know  ef  our  preacher  felt 
discouraged  ever  tew  think  o'  them  dead  an' 
alive  meetin's  and  long  prayers.  Hi,  Zip!  So, 
so !  Put  yer  hand  right  down  tew  the  fetlock, 
Bodely.  The  little  scamp  !  never  knew  her  tew 
kick—" 


CAPTAIN  BROON  AND  HIS  SON,  49 

"But  the  set  time  tew  favor  Zion  hain't  come 
t(  w  the  village  fur  a  long  while,  brother.  She'll 
b3  white,  come  in  white,  in  a  few  years  —  them 
gray   hairs." 

"Of  course.  Broon  was  a-sayin'  that  we  oter 
liev  new  singin'  books  and  a  organ  and  Sun- 
day-school papers,  an'  be  a-doin'  mission  work 
imong  the  hills  about.  Offered  tew  give  the 
noney  —  that's  where  she  over  reached  in  the 
mow  last  year  —  a  little  lamp  ile  and  powder 
'11   bring   in   the   hair." 

" '  We  must  pray  more  for  spiritual  power,*  sez 
Broon  tew  me,"  replied  Bodely.  "  He  was  a-tell- 
n'  me  of  the  power  them  city  churches  hez. 
He  sez,  sez  he  —  not  more'n  a  hundred  an' 
iifty  fur  her,  deacon.  Sposen  'twas  Monday,  I'll 
giv  ye  that  fur  her.  Broon  sez  that  the  wick- 
edest folks  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  most  de- 
voted sarvents  of  the  Lord  on  t'other  hand, 
aire  found  in  great  cities  ;  and  that  these  ere 
churches  of  ourn  in  the  country  aire  neither 
cold   nor  hot." 

"■  Sposen  'twas  Monday,  I'll  take  a  hundred 
and  seventy-five  for  the  colt,  deacon,"  was  Pit- 
kin's answer,  as  the  good  man  shot  again  at  the 
nearest  nodding  mullein  stalk  with  wonderful 
labial    marksmanship. 


CO  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"Sposen  'twas  Monday,  I'll  leave  it  tew  Lem 
Dowd  an'  Ichabod  Sirams.  Here,  boys,  yew  know 
colts,    come  over  here." 

The  two  young  fellows  drew  near,  munching 
their  red  round  doughnuts  and  cheese  as  they 
came.  To  whom  deacon  Bodely  at  once  re- 
marked : 

"He  was  a-talkin*  about  the  speretual  deartt 
of  Zion,  which  this  ere  young  city  feller  seems 
tew  feel  more'n  we  do  —  ez  ye  wud  a-heard 
ef  ye  had  been  tew  prayer  -  meetin'  as  ye  ought 
t'other  night,  and  a-keepin*  yer  cuvenant  vows ; 
and  we  were  jest  sposen  'twas  Monday,  shall  it 
be  a  hundred  an'  fifty  or  seventy-five  for  that 
ere   colt.?" 

"  But  it's  Sunday,  deacon,  Sunday,  Sunday  !  " 
exclaimed  one  of  the  young  men,  with  a  twin- 
kle in  his  eye,  as  he  gave  the  venerable  man 
this  mock  rebuke,  at  the  same  time  he  came 
near  enough  to  pat  the  colt  on  the  rump  with 
the  hand  he  had  pulled  from  his  trousers  pocket. 
*'We  sha'n't  help  your  boss  trade  unless  you  help 
us  decide  what  politics  this  young  Broon  is." 

*'  Oh,  he's  a  hot  R'publican.  That's  easy 
'nough,"   replied   deacon  Bodely. 

"And  tell  him,"  put  in  the  other  youth, 
pointing   significantly  with  his  left  elbow,  for  both 


CAPTAIN  BROON  AND  HIS  SON,  5; 

his  hands  were  in  his  pockets,  "whether  he'd 
better  hoss-whip  the  city  chap  for  cuttin*  him 
out   with   the  widder's   daughter." 

"There  ain*t  no  two  boys  in  town  that  can  get 
that  harndsome  Broon  on  the  hip  lock/'  answered 
Lem.  "Besid  :,  I  like  the  feller.  He's  a  gen- 
tleman." 

"Oh,  you  talk!"  said  Ichabod.  "You  know 
that  a  dozen  boys-  are  gettin'  up  muscle  for 
him.  'Cause  he's  goin'  to  git  the  girl.  He'll 
have  his  saddle  girth  slit,  or  his  mare's  tail 
sheered,  afore  the  summer's  out,  or  my  name 
ain't   Simms  !  " 

"Afore  the  summer's  out  the  boys  '11  have 
more  r'spect'ble  fighin'  to  do,  if  the  papers  tell 
the   truth,"    thoughtfully   remarked   Dowd. 

"Then  only  them  as  can  hire  substitutes,  or 
don't  get  drafted,  can  marry,  eh  ?  Well,  that 
fust  means  your  Broon,"  this  from  Simms  bit- 
terly. 

As  for  the  facts,  these  old  and  young  observ- 
ers had  noted  them  accurately  enough.  There 
was  many  a  scamper  over  the  hills,  both  Mark 
and  Laura  being  superb  riders.  There  was  an 
occasional  ride  in  Mark's  mere  skeleton  of  a 
carriage,  which  his  steads  whipped  over  the 
dusty   road     as   if     they  were   winged     creatures 


52 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


But  there  were  comparatively  few  visits  at  the 
widow's  house, — just  enough  for  propriety,  before 
or  after  a  ride,   and  brief. 

There  were  reasons  for  this.  The  good  matron 
had  had  abundant  occasion  for  the  strange  doc- 
tor's attendance  for  a  month  past,  and  his  son 
was  his  driver ;  and,  notwithstanding  her  courte 
ous  hospitality  to  Mark,  it  was  evident  that  the 
mother  was  less  cordial  to  him  in  the  doctor's 
presence.  Yet  Mark  had  never  been  told  that 
there  was  not  a  fair  field  for  him  if  he  could 
win. 

And  then,  too,  by  many  a  little  artifice,  trans 
parent  enough  if  one  cared  to  look  into  them, 
though  he  did  not,  Broon  found  it  all  arranged 
for  him  so  that  somehow  he  made  but  brief 
calls  at  the  house,  and  even  then  only  rarely 
—  now  that  he  came  to  think  of  it,  not  more 
than  three  times  —  met  the  distinguished  and 
supernatural   healer  and   his   son   when   there. 

"Reared  as  I  have  been.  Miss  Lane,"  Mark 
had  one  day  ventured  to  blurt  out,  "all  such 
superstitious  pretense,  in  the  holy  name  of 
religion,   is   indescribably  offensive." 

"  Offensive ! " 

.And  she  had  reddened  as  the  rose,  first 
looking    high   and    mighty,   then    cast   down   with 


CAPTAIN  BROON  AND  HIS  SON. 


53 


pitiful  distress.  It  was  that  same  aspect  of  ter- 
ror which  he  had  first  seen  at  the  garden 
gate,  of  which  he  often  thought,  without 
coming  to  an  explanation  satisfactory  to  himself. 
Her  confusion  was  so  great  that  he  would  not 
pursue  the  inquiry,  in  his  own  vehicle  as  they 
happened  to  be,  as  to  why  she  so  dreaded  this 
man.     He   only  added: 

"I  am  sure  you,  a  healthy,  high-spirited  girl, 
do  not  yield  credence  to  any  such  sepulchral 
and   unearthly  notions !  " 

But  the  young  man's  eyes  were  bent,  with 
the  search  of  a  serious  man  pursuing  things 
serious  in  the  make-up  of  his  future  happiness, 
upon   her  lovely  features. 

Her  self-control  was  wonderful.  Even  as  he 
watched  her  she  had  recovered  herself.  And  the 
face  was  so  pure,  the  beaming  smile  so  enchant- 
ing, that  he  could  not,  would  not  suspect  her 
of  a  wizzard's  creed.  Besides,  just  at  that  mo- 
ment, at  a  turn  of  the  mountain  road,  a  new 
ard  noble  vista  of  the  landscape  burst  upon 
them. 

"You  shall  teach  me  what  to  believe,  Mr. 
Broon.  Just  now  let  me  point  out" — and  she 
fell   to   describing   the   far   mountain   ranges. 

So  passed  on   the  few   short    or  long  weeks, — 


54  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

short  or  long  as  you,  reader,  or  these  lovers  in 
memory  measure  them.  The  elder  Broon  came 
up  from  the  city  at  length,  to  inspect  his  son's 
latest  doings,  though  all  the  boy's  plans  had 
been  taken  and  pursued  with  fatherly  assent 
from  the  first.  Imagine  this  father  and  son 
seated  on   the  veranda  of   "Eaglecroft." 

"Well,  Mark,  if  you  like  the  place,  an  old 
sailor  like  me  can  make  port  here  well  enough 
for  the   summer,   once   in   a  while." 

"Father,"  answered  the  young  gentleman  turn- 
ing about  with  a  serious  air,  "you  are  getting 
too  old  to  stick  so  close  to  business  as  you  do. 
You  shall  spend  the  season  here  and  enjoy 
your  age." 

"  Tut,  tut,  boy  !  Age  ?  Old  ?  There  isn't  a  rot- 
ton   timber   in   the   craft   yet.     Ha,     ha!" 

It  was  a  laugh  among  ten  thousand ;  so  deep, 
from  the  heart,  and  so  full  of  sunshine,  meanwhile, 
was  the  old  bronzed  face.  Thirty  years  of  the  sea 
could  not  be  bleached  out  by  ten  years  of  the 
shore,  but  the  bronze  was  ever  bright  as  new. 
Even  in  repose  the  weather-beaten  countenance 
was  only  rugged  kind.  In  laughter  it  was  ia 
describably  radiant  with  good-will  toward  all  on 
•■he   sea-girt   globe. 

Mark   regarded   his  father  in  a  sort  of  hopeless 


CAPTAIN  BROON  AND  HIS  SON.  55 


silence  for  a  moment.  The  boy's  eyes  almost 
expressed  worship,  they  were  so  tender,  pathetic 
and  reverential.  He  had  thought  he  saw  the 
scar  upon  his  father's  left  cheek  grow  deeper  of 
late,  as  if  he  were  at  last  amenable  to  fatigue 
like  ordinary  mortals.  He  had  mentioned  it  to  his 
step-mother,    a   fellow-worshipper   with   himself. 

"  Great  God  !  can  my  father  indeed  grow  old 
like  other  men.  And  must  he  die,  some  far 
off   day.?"   but   not   aloud. 

Withdrawing  his  gaze,  and  confessing  himself 
helpless  in  further  protest  against  the  New 
York   store,    Mark   continued   aloud: 

"You  approve  my  choice  of  site  then.  Why, 
father,  the  landscape  from  this  veranda  must 
remind  you  of  the  sea.  These  white  mountains 
are  pretty  big  waves,   however." 

"Yes,  yes,  like  the  sea  full  enough  for  me, 
boy.  Give  me  to  stop  ashore  of  that  other  sea 
now,  till  I'm  done  with  this  world  and  make 
the  Jasper  sea." 

They  sat  down  upon  the  steps  of  the  piazza 
m  a  way  that  men  like  better  than  easy  chairs 
when  engaged  in  familiar  and  serious  confer- 
ence. The  elder  man  plucked  a  stray  spear  of 
herdsgrass  and  began  to  chew  it.  The  younger 
man  put  a  match  to  his  cigar,  and  began  to 
smoke. 


56 


A    WEDDING  IN   WAR-TIME, 


"  You  are  going  to  quit  the  cigar,  one  of 
these  days,  Mark,"  remarked  the  captain  care- 
fully. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  was  the  quick  re- 
ply,  as   Mark   tossed   away  his   cigar. 

"  Tut,  tut !  You  needn't  do  that,"  said  the 
captain.  "  I  am  not  going  to  continue  nagging 
you  about  your  cigar.  You  are  old  enough  to 
judge  for  yourself.  But  it  does  seem  to  me 
that  all  the  young  men  are  smokers,  now-a-days 
In  all   my  voyages   I   never  learned   it." 

"So  I  have  heard  you  say,  sir.  I  would  not 
offend  you ;  I  am  not  fully  persuaded  in  my 
own  mind  about  this  trifle.  It's  not  an  easy 
thing   to   conquer  — " 

"  Not  easy  for  a  boy  who  never  had  any 
experience  in  breaking  off  bad  habits,  my  son. 
Thank  God,  it  is  the  only  evil  habit  I  ever 
knew  in  you.  Well,  well,  let's  not  talk  of  it. 
What   a   charming  view   this   is!" 

It  was  upon  one  of  the  lower  spurs  of  Mt. 
Washington.  Here,  not  by  the  sea,  not  by  the 
Hudson,  had  Mark  Broon  decided  to  build  hi* 
summer  palace.  Far  from  palace  was  the  ne\r 
house  as  yet,  though  it  was  habitable  and  made 
ready  as  best  it  could  be  for  the  entctain 
ment  of  a  happy  party  of  down-country  fuendi 
now   supposed  to   be   on   the  way  hither. 


CAPTAIN  BROON  AND  HIS  SON 


57 


Both  gentlemen  lapsed  into  silence  in  this 
imposing  presence  of  nature.  The  morning  sun 
rode  higher  up  the  eastern  sky  fresh  from  his 
bath  far  down  the  coast  of  Maine.  The  advanc- 
ing day  was  every  moment  changing  the  stern 
visage  of  Mt.  Kearsarge,  by  deepening  or  eras- 
ing the  great  wrinkles  in  the  mountainous 
cheeks.  In  the  distance  a  sheen  of  silver 
showed  the  ocean  by  Portsmouth  harbor,  eighty 
miles  away  as  the  crow  flies.  The  intermediate 
landscape  seemed  to  have  no  hills,  no  undulating 
line,  but  to  be  a  boundless  prairie  in  broken 
New  England.  The  patchwork  of  forest  and 
farm,  the  variety  of  color  afforded  by  dark  hem- 
locks and  lighter  maples,  by  fields  mown  and 
pastures  sun-bleached,  by  oat  stubble  and  white 
buckwheat,  and  this  patchwork,  spread  by  un- 
seen hands  so  far  and  wide,  was  an  endless 
study.  The  eye  was  fascinated  by  attempts  to 
trace  silver  ribbons  which  were  woven  and 
plaited  into  the  general  textile,  with  brilliant 
effect.  Whence  came  that  particular  water  ?  Is 
it  the  Merrimack  ?  And  that  mirror  yonder,  so 
turned  towards  these  two  observers  that  its 
slieen  fairly  flecked  and  dazzled  them,  after  the 
manner  of  mischievous  school-boys  with  a  hand- 
glass,  through   thirty   miles   of  distance. 


58 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


The  shadow  of  passing  clouds  which  camped 
over  the  beetling  crags  above  them,  and  then 
sailed  out  and  on  to  intercept  the  sun  here  and 
there  over  the  light-flooded  plains;  the  sweep  of 
a  mare's  tail  of  storm-cloud  far  across  the  har- 
vest fields  of  Vermont,  and  actually,  by  means  oi 
a  glass  which  the  good  captain  whipped  out, 
the  hurry  of  hay-makers  in  front  of  the  rain ; 
the  white  dust  puffs  that  marked  the  ashen 
highways,  and  the  passing  of  unseen  vehicles 
along  the  umbragious  sides  of  the  mountain;  all 
these  they  saw,  and  in  a  quiet  way  each 
pointed  out  from  time  to  time  some  new  dis- 
covery. 

"I  say,  bub,"  and  the  Captain's  great  crooked 
forefinger  indicated  the  direction,  "  I  can  hear, 
every  now  and  then,  the  music  of  the  mowing 
machines,  I  do  believe,  from  the  Connecticut 
meadows." 

"Certainly,  father.  It  is  the  wind  which  brings 
it.  I  see,"  pulling  out  his  watch,^  "that  it  is 
about  time  for  the  up  trains  over  these  two 
railroads.  I  have  frequently  heard  the  long,  low 
rumble  of  the  passing  cars  more  than  fifteen 
miles   away." 

"Yes,"  said  Captain  Broon,  "there  she  puffs, 
on  the   Passumpsic  road.     It  looks   like  a    snake. 


CAPTAIN  BROON  AND  HIS  SON  59 


Ah,  boy,  how  small  a  thing  is  a  man!  In  yon- 
der train  are,  now,  let  us  suppose,  several  hun- 
dred gay  and  happy  beings ;  yet  you  cannot  see 
a  face.  Ants  are  a  good  comparison.  Only  God 
is  great,  Mark,  only  God !  How  often  I  have 
thought  of  this  at  sea,  a  ship,  hull  down,  stag 
gering   on   before   my   vision." 

The  sincere  old  man  ran  on  in  this  strain  of 
noble  thought.  He  was  so  pure  a  soul  that  his 
boy  might  have  seen  his  every  bosom  thought 
and  never  known  a  shock  to  filial  reverence. 
It  was  by  such  unbosomings  of  a  rare,  manly 
nature  that  he  had  contributed  more  than  is 
common,  in  this  world  of  strangers,  to  fashion 
the  boy's  character.  Mark  never  disturbed  the 
flow  of  this  sort  of  vocal  meditation  from  his 
sire's  heart.  He  simply  sat  and  listened,  and 
took  every  word  for  law  and  gospel ;  which 
indeed  it  was,  measured  by  even  the  Book  of 
the   changeless   law   and   the   priceless   gospel. 

"  I  like  this,  Mark.  Do  you  know,  boy,  in 
the  presence  of  great  Nature  I  feel  myself  a 
mar  again!  An  old  sailor  is  at  odds  among 
crowds  of  men,  shaip  business  men,  on  shore. 
In  New  York,  for  instance,  they  run  round  me. 
They  are  too  quick  for  me,  and  get  the  advan- 
tage  of    me.     I   have   to  hold    tight    to    the    salt 


^  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

money,  or  they  would  soon  make  you  a  beggar, 
Mark.  Ah,  a  sailor  only  feels  himself  a  man 
when  on  the  deep  !  But  I'm  too  old  now.  Yet 
here  I  have  the  same  feelings  as  at  sea. 
Winds,  storms,  clouds,  waves,  mountains !  These 
are  bluff,  honest  foes.  A  true  man  can  face 
them  and  conquer.  But  the  mean,  small  tricks 
of  modern  trade,  and  the  sharpers  who  are 
abroad  on  shore,  the  storm  of  lies —  My  son,  I 
don't  know,  sometimes,  whether  I  want  you  to 
go  into  business  at  all.  You'll  have  enough 
with  my  salt  money.  But  you  must  not  be  idle, 
not  be  idle."  And  he  chewed  the  grass  spear 
between   his   lips   and   grew  silent. 

"I  do  not  wish  to  be  idle,  father.  I  am  not 
regardless  of  all  your  wishes  that  I  should  em- 
ploy myself   in   some   way   to   benefit   mankind." 

"True,  boy.  I  know  your  heart.  But  now 
all  that  will  depend  not  a  little  on  the  character 
of  your  proposed  wife,  this  beautiful  girl,  now, 
that  you   have   invited   up   here." 

Mark  Broon  started.  He  tossed  the  stick  that 
he  had  been  whittling  over  the  cliff  at  their 
feet,  clasped  his  hands  hard  around  his  knees, 
and  bent  his  eyes  on  the  tree-tops,  which  swept 
away  below  the  balcony  in  unbroken  masses  of 
green   so  far.     Yonder  rolled  the  train.     His  car 


CAPTAIN  BROpN  AND    HIS  SON,  6l 


riage  had  gone  down  the  mountains  to  meet  the 
party  of  visitors.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but 
wait. 

"You  see,  Mark,  in  my  sober  judgment,  you 
lack  nothing  but  a  good  wife  for  the  making  of 
a  first-class  man.  Your  timbers  are  all  sound 
and  new.  Your  cargo  is  good,  —  fine  education, 
good  common  sense,  a  generous  heart,  and 
enough  in  the  locker,  and  comin'  to  you,  to 
keep  in  good  repairs  for  a  long  voyage.  I 
believe  you  sail  by  the  old  chart.  Keep  to  God's 
Book,  boy.  I'm  passenger  now,  unless  you  call 
me  the  shipper.  But  the  wife  is  the  all-impor- 
tant thing  now.  She's  very  fine  looking;  I've 
only  seen  her  once  or  twice.  But  has  she  real 
good  sober  sense.?  I  like  a  matter-of-fact  girl. 
I  like  a  June  temper,  not  April.  I  like  a  re- 
ligious girl,  but  not  one  who  is  superstitious 
and  given  to  every  wind  that  blows,  Mark. 
Why,  what  ails  the  boy  ?  Of  course  it  isn't  what 
I  like  altogether  that  is  to  govern  you.  That's 
my  way  of  advisin'  you  and  thinkin'  aloud. 
Art   sick?" 

The  knit  brows  and  pained  looks  which 
Mark  bent  on  his  father  were  such  as  might 
well  betoken  physical  suffering;  but  physical  it 
was  not.     Truth   was,    Mark    Broon    was    keeping 


62  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

his  first  secret  from  his  good  old  sire.  He  had 
Qever  lisped  of  the  strange  domination  by  Dr. 
Smiles,  under  which  Laura  Lane  and  her  mother 
labored.  He  had  one  day  started  to  do  so,  when 
his  father's  honest,  matter-of-fact  face  forbade 
him,  as  peremptorily  as  if  the  firm  lips  had 
said,  "  God  forbid,  boy !  The  devil  himself  is  in 
that  sort  of  thing !  Say  good-bye  and  be  done 
with  crazy  folk."  The  reader  can  judge  some- 
thing of  Mark's  present  distress  as  his  father 
went  on  again,  getting  to  his  feet  before  him 
and   standing   braced,  sailor  fashion,    legs    apart. 

''Why,  Mark,  you  see  I  can  read  your  verj 
soul,  such  friends  we  are.  I  shall  love  whom 
you  love.  She's  passing  beautiful,  and  will  always 
look  well  alongside.  I  think  she  has  a  kind, 
good  heart,  for  she  is  friendly  even  to  the  ser- 
vants, I  saw.  You  say  she  sails  by  our  chart 
or  'tends  the  Congregational,  which  is  all  the 
same  as  Methodist  now-a-days.  I  guess  she's 
shipshape  all  round.  I  know  she  is  —  there ! 
Come,  cheer  up,  boy.  You  only  want  to  make 
sure  that  the  girl  is  steady  on  her  tack;  that 
she  don't  sheer  off  and  lose  her  head.  Why, 
Mark,  I  like,  a  woman  to  sort  of  swear  by  my 
word,  every  time,  thick  weather  or  fair,  to  be- 
lieve in   me  and   me    alone.      Then,   heaven     wit- 


CAPTAIN  BROON  AND  HIS  SON,  63 

ness,  a  man  can  just  worship  such  a  woman ! " 
The  old  man's  face  caught  the  shadow  of  a 
passing  cloud,  and  his  fine  mouth  trembled  as 
he  continued,  "  My  first  wife,  your  mother, 
boy—" 

"Don't,  father,"   put   in   Mark. 

"  Well,  I  know,"  attributing  Mark's  protest  to 
pathetic  recollections  of  the  dead.  "  But,  my 
son,  you  are  too  much  reefed  to  keep  alongside 
today,  though  I  don't  just  see  why,  so  we'll  drop 
it,  and  go  in  to  see  about  these  new  servants  and 
the  dinner.  We  want  our  old  friends,  the  Hardy s, 
to  eat   hearty,  and  give  the  ship  a  good  name." 

As  the  two  men  strode  along  the  wide  ve- 
randa, on  their  left  the  panorama  of  the  wide, 
wide  world,  on  their  right,  the  low,  broad  win- 
dows, opening  into  the  spacious  drawing-room 
and  suit  of  apartments  beyond,  the  elder  man's 
thoughts  were  divided  between  solicitude  about 
workmen,  upholsterers  and  servants,  and  the  graver 
theme  of  the  morning's  converse.  This  of  itself 
was  an  evidence  that  the  latter  subject  did  not 
worry  him ;  for  with  benignant  content  he  inter- 
ested himself  in  trifling  comments  upon  this  and 
that  article  of  furniture,  or  proposed  amendations 
of  the  building  plans.  When  is  a  man  with  a 
a  clear  conscience    happier   than    on    a    vacation 


54  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

day,  giving  serious  attention  to  the  small  affairs 
of  his   house,  of  play   or  playthings  ? 

"I  suppose  now,"  remarked  the  captain,  paus- 
ing before  the  wonderful  vista  revealed  through 
the  library  windows,  **that  most  of  these  shrewd 
landsmen  would  say  I'd  better  set  my  boy  to 
makin'  more  money  in  some  business,  than  to 
humor  his  'sthetic  fancies,  just  out  of  college — " 

"  By  making  him  as  happy  as  man  can  be  on 
earth,   pa?" 

It  was  the  plain,  gentle  wife  who  spoke,  as 
she  drew  near  from  her  bustling  survey  of  the 
morning's  house-keeping  affairs.  She  was  a 
much  younger  lady  than  the  captain's  oft-men- 
tioned "first  wife"  would  have  been  had  she 
lived  to  walk  beside  him  till  now ;  but  it  was 
evident  at  a  glance  that  nothing  but  love  was 
ever  known  between  these  three. 

Mark  kissed  her  good  morning  with  the  first 
smile  he  had  worn  for  the   last   hour. 

"Well,  Mary,"  the  captain  began  in  reply, 
putting  his  stout  arm  around  her,  "it  is  no 
secret  between  us  that  Mark  will  have  money 
enough.  He  will  be  rich.  What  is  the  sense, 
before  Heaven,  in  settin'  the  boy  to  makin' 
more  money  for  his  life-work  ?  Can  anybody 
explain  why  I   should   urge  him  into  business  to 


CAPTAIN  BROON  AND  HIS  SON,  65 


get  richer?  I  know  that's  the  fashion.  These 
money-grubbers  want  their  sons  to  succeed  and 
do  something  in  the  world;  and  by  that  they 
mean  money-grubbin'  like  their  own.  Why, 
Mark,  I  wouldn't  do  it !  Sail  for  another  port 
and  give  other  poor  Jacks  a  chance.  Hey.?" 
And  again  the  glorious  laugh  which  shook  the 
man    and   shook   the   floor. 

It  was  purely  a  safety-valve  laugh,  provoked 
oy  no  joke,  but  letting  off  the  surcharged  good 
cheer   and   good-will   of   this   great   heart. 

** Another  port  it  shall  be,  father,"  responded 
Mark,  his  face  lighting  up  a  little,  '*  only  we 
can't  quite  make  out  where-away  on  the  chart, 
as  you  would  say,  and  decide  in  a  general  sort 
of  way  that  I  am  not  going  to  live  for  money- 
making." 

"Right!     Settle  it!"   roared   the   captain. 

"But  while  caring  for  my  own,  I  will  dili- 
gently seek  to  use  it  for  the  welfare  of  my 
kind,  and  find  happiness  and  employment  in 
such  seeking." 

"  Right  !  Though  you  want  to  figure  that 
down  a  little  more  to  a  point,"  again  roared 
the  good   captain. 

"Exactly,  father.  That's  it.  It  is  easy  enough 
to    say    I'll    avoid    sordid    money-getting  —  being 


06  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

rich  enough  — "  this  with  a  sly  twinkle  of  the 
eye  towards  the  sensible  Mrs.  Broon,  — "  but 
just  how  or  where  to  work  best  and  sensibly 
for  the  good  of  humanity  is  not  so  easy  to 
say." 

*'  Stay ! "  quickly  exclaimed  the  bright  little 
lady  of  the  trio.  "  I  know  you  two  men  like 
a  book.  I'll  tell  you  just  what  kind  of  a  man 
you  are  to  be,  Mark  Broon.  You  are  to  join 
elegant  leisure  with  philanthropy.  You  are  to 
entertain  scholars,  artists,  writers,  clergymen,  and 
all  that  like,  except  actors  and  actresses,  whom 
your  father  abominates." 

"  Right,  shipmate,"  said  the  captain,  in  dead 
earnest. 

"You  are  to  adorn  your  life  with  every  good 
and  beautiful  thing  that  money  can  buy,  except 
that  you   will   not   amble   in    Vanity   Fair." 

**  Right,  shipmate !  Confound  the  fashiona- 
bles ! " 

"You  are  to  be  no  idler,  but  very  busy  with 
noble  errands.  If  you  copy  pa"  —  she  always 
gave  the  captain  this  quaint  title,  — "  you  will 
spend  half  your  time  going  to  cheer  up  some 
sick  friend,  helping  some  poor  soul  whom 
nobody  else  would  help,  and  doing  it  in  a  way 
that    nobody   else  would   think   of.     You    will    be 


CAPTAIN  BROON  AND  HIS  SON.  67 

pursuing  and  scotching  some  popular  error;  run- 
ning a  tilt  with  some  one  of  the  thousand 
abuses   and   wrongs   that   afflict   mankind." 

"  Right  all  the  while ! "  growled  the  captain, 
all  radiant  with  laughter  ready  to  break  out 
'*  Open  their  eyes !  Save  any  fellow  you  can 
from  being  victimized  by  sharpers  and  adventur- 
ers !  Fight  for  the  under  dog  all  the  way 
through  life!" 

"And  this  good  man,"  the  lady  continued, 
"expects  you  to  be  very  ingenious  in  inventing 
plans  of  philanthropy.  Now  all  this  is  to  be 
because  pa  thinks  commercial  and  society  life 
among  the  rich  to-day  are,  for  the  most  part, 
sordid,  selfish,  frivolous.  You  are  to  show  what  a 
high-minded  Christian  rich  man  can  be,  do  and 
enjoy   in   the   world." 

"Right   to   a  logarithm!"     This   the   captain. 

"And  I  predict,"  she  concluded,  releasing  her< 
self  with  a  mischievous  smile,  "that  our  dear 
boy  will  not  find  it  easy  to  live  so  very  differ- 
ently from  others  of  his  class.  Excuse  me;  I 
'car  the  coach-horn  just  below  the  cliffs."  And 
-:he  broke  off  her  half-serious  banter  with  a 
laugh,   and   darted   away. 

The  captain,  with  a  puzzled  look  on  his  smil 
ing    face,     which     deepened     into    an     aspect     of 


68  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

gravity,  as  if  he  knew  how  true  that  parting 
shot   was,    turned   away,    saying: 

"I'll  go  down  to  see  about  the  gravelling, 
Mark.  We  want  room  enough  for  a  carriage  to 
wear  round  without   tipping   over.'* 

As  Mark  was  left  alone  he  almost  groaned 
aloud.  He  recognized  in  the  Lane  household, 
under  the  domination  of  Dr.  Smiles,  a  problem 
for  a  knight,    directly  in   his   own  path. 

"My  father  would  not  have  the  patience  of 
a  moment  with  such  strange  people.  Smiles  and 
my  father  are  as  darkness  and  light  to  each 
other.  And  the  idea  that  I  should  entertain  a 
fancy  for  a  lady  who  would  exchange  two  words 
with  such  a  pretender,  would  be  to  him  in- 
tolerable!  But  does  she.^  No;  I  candidly  judge 
no.     It   is   all  her  mother's   affair." 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  veranda  many 
times,  and   more   than   once   exclaimed   aloud  : 

"It   is   all   her   mother's   infatuation!" 

Or,  again,  "  No,  of  course  I  couldn't  marry 
any  but  a  Christian  woman.  Not  a  heathen  in 
this  Christian  age !  A  believer  in  necromancy ! 
A   believer   in    nothing  !  " 

Or,  again,  with  a  look  of  a  fine  dreamer,  yet 
sensible,  on  his  upturned  face,  "To  live  wisely 
and   well   with   a    prayerless    wife.?     I    am    not   so 


CAPTAIN  BROON  AND  HIS  SON,  69 

silly  as  to  attempt  it.  Yet,  said  she  not  that  I 
should  teach  her  what  to  believe?  Oh,  the  ma- 
jestic creature,  what  a  pupil !  I  cannot  wonder 
at  these'  fungus  growths  of  misbeliefs  in  a  re- 
gion    of      such     grotesque     fears     and     lethargic 

churches.     When   she  is   in   S ,   for  of    course 

she  visits  there,  she  is  in  a  healthier  atmos- 
phere, I  trust.  I  wonder  what  Mayor  Hardy's 
religious  convictions  are.  But  they  cannot  be 
anything  akin  to  the  Smiles  folly ;  for  my  father 
would  not  have  acknowledged  such  a  man  as  an 
acquaintance,  much  less  an  old  friend.  He  would 
have  protested  against  my  inviting  the  Hardys 
up  here.  Said  they  were  once  shipmates  and 
old"  skipper  captains  together.  Fortunate,  was  it 
not.?" 

When,  observing  by  his  watch  that  he  had  lit 
tie  time  to  dress  for  receiving  his  friends,  he 
stepped  rather  more  cheerfully  down  the  hall  and 
sought   his   room. 

The  reader  may  judge  of  the  resolute  pur- 
pose which  Mark  Broon  was  decided  on,  regard 
ing  Laura  Lane,  by  the  fact  that  he  had  car 
ried  the  arrangement  of  this  visit  to  his  ne^;^ 
house  for  a  week  with   no  little   trouble. 

He  had  planned  his  father's  visit.  His  step 
mother  was   to  have  passed    the   summer  at    tb( 


;o  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

new  mansion,  as  the  scheme  was  formed  long 
ago.  But  how  to  get  Laura  and  her  mother 
there  for  guests?  Fortunately,  as  he  had  said, 
he  discovered  his  father's  acquaintance  with 
Mayor  Hardy,  Laura's  uncle.  Old  Capt.  Broon 
fell  readily  enough  into  the  plan ;  it  would  be 
perfectly  proper,  as  an  assistance  in  social  inves- 
tigation concerning  his  son's  possible  future 
wife.  The  mayor  and  his  family  were  even  now 
on   the   approaching   train. 

Mark's  coachman  was  to  drive  down  to  the 
valley  farm  in  the  early  morning  for  the  widow 
Lane   and   her   daughter   Laura. 

"  Yes  }  "  Laura  had  laughingly  questioned  with 
'\  coy  movement  of  the  shapely  head,  and  a  hes- 
itating glance,  when  Mark  had  proposed  the 
visit  a  week  before.  "  And  is  it  to  be  a  real 
visit,  with  certain  necessary  trunks  and  fix- 
ings .? " 

''Just  the  same,"  Mark  had  answered,  "as  if 
our  dwellings  were  a  thousand  miles  apart."  He 
spoke  gravely ;  his  serious  demeanor  contrasted 
singularly   with   her   sunny   air. 

"  You  are  eccentric.  How  grave  you  are 
about  this !  I  don't  like  you  to  be  odd.  Mamma 
is — is  so  unnatural,  so  unearthly  much  of  her 
time,"  and  she  gave  a  little  shudder  as  her  face 
grew   sedate,    "that   I    like  you   to   be  natural." 


CAPTAIN  BROON  AND  HIS  SON.  71 

"  A  thousand  pardons ! "  he  exclaimed,  looking 
up  brightly.  "Now  this  visit  is  natural  enough, 
when  you  come  to  look  at  it,"  and  he  began 
to  toy  with  the  handle  of  her  sunshade  as  they 
stood  there  under  the  protection  of  the  maple 
at  her  gate.  **Your  relatives  turn  out  to  be  inti- 
mate friends  of  ours.  My  father,  in  his  hearty 
way,  has  invited  them  up  here.  Your  cousin 
Madge,   their   daughter,    is   with   them  — " 

"  She   is   a   real   rogue,   and  so   jolly  1 " 

"And  they  always  come  to  the  mountains 
about  this   season,"   he  insisted   on   pursuing. 

"I  dare  not  tell  you,  Mr.  Broon,  what  she 
said  about  you,"  exclaimed  Laura,  knowing  well 
the   art   of  prolonging  the   conversation. 

But    Mark   kept  to  his   argument. 

"You  must  remember  that  my  house-warming 
does  not  seem  to  take  well  among  my  curious 
neighbors.  They  will  not  let  me  get  very  near 
them  ;  and  this  home  party  is  to  do  in  its 
stead." 

"  She  said, "  persisted  the  charming  obstruc- 
tionist, "that  she  half  mistrusted  your  invitation. 
A  sort  of  convenience,   their  presence." 

"  I  protest  that  it  is  not !  Father  often  has 
Mr.    Hardy  over  to   dine  in   New   York." 

"But   still  your  father    does  want    to    get    ac 


72  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

quainted  with  —  that  is,  I  mean  he  wants  to  see 
more — "  and  she  tried  to  disengage  the  sun- 
shade from  his  hand.  Her  great  eyes  almost 
challenged   him   for  a   moment. 

"  Of  you  ?  Why,  yes/'  Broon  answered  frankly. 
"  But  you  will  not,  you  of  all  persons  I  say, 
think  the  less  of  me  for  my  filial  respect. 
And,  on  the  other  hand,  you  will  meet  my 
father.  Mrs.  Broon,  my  step-mother,  has  returned 
your  call." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  responded  the  girl.  "  Why,  cer- 
tainly it  is  all  right."  And  she  surrendered  the 
sunshade   handle  to   his   reaching  hand   heartily. 


A  SHOCKING  LIE.  73 


IV. 

A  SHOCKING  LIE. 

U  T3EALLY,  Laura,"  sighed  Mrs.  Lane  Ian 
-■^^  guidly,  "you  must  send  word  up  to  — 
well,  address  it  to  your  uncle  Hardy,  —  no,  tele 
graph  up  to  Mr.  Broon  himself;  he  has  a  pri 
vate  wire  from  the  village.  Say  that  I  am  too 
much  indisposed  to  go  to  Eaglecroft  this  after- 
noon." 

The  lady  was  reclining  in  a  huge  rocker 
which  occupied  a  good  half  of  the  little  front 
porch,  or  "stoop,"  of  her  dwelling.  She  was 
already  dressed  for  the  visit,  except   her  bonnet. 

Laura  was  ready,  even  to  her  hat  and  gloves. 
The  two  trunks  were  packed  and  waiting  for  the 
farm  wagon  which  should  take  them,  "after  the 
men  had  finished  cultivating  the  corn."  All  day 
long  Laura  had  been  half -expecting  just  this 
word  from  her  mother's  lips;  expecting  it  at 
that  morning's  breakfast  table,  and  it  almost 
came,  but  not  quite;  expecting  it  during  the 
forenoon,  as  the  workman   in   charge   came  to  the 


74  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

widow     for  his    week's    orders,    and     her     mother 
had    said  : 

"  How  can  you  get  on,  haying  almost  here, 
without   me?'* 

But  the  farmer,  catching  a  glance  from  Laura, 
had  managed  to  smooth  over  that  objection. 
Laura  had  expected  her  mother's  change  of 
mind  as  they  packed  up,  and  had  the  more 
swiftly  performed  that  duty  largely  herself.  She 
expected  a  retreat  as  they  began  to  dress,  and 
her  tongue  ran  so  glibly  on  every  conceivable 
subject,  by  way  of  occupying  the  maternal  mind, 
and  diverting  it,  that  by  the  time  the  dressing 
was  completed,  the  girl  had  exhausted  all  her 
ingenuity,  and  the  last  diverting  theme,  namely, 
whether  it  were  best  to  sell  certain  railway 
bonds,  which  the  family  lawyer  regarded  with 
suspicion.  The  bond^  question  had  availed,  how- 
ever, being  a  knotty  one,  and  the  widow  was 
dressed   at   last,   thanks   to   the   bonds. 

"Why,  at  this  late  moment.?"  exclaimed  Laura, 
ready  to  cry  with  vexation  and  the  heat.  "The 
carriage  will  be  here  shortly.  And,  mamma 
dear,  because  I  chanced  to  mention  how  busy 
all  our  men  were  and  our  horses,  Mr.  Broon 
so  kindly  offered  to  send  his  team  for  us.  We 
cannot   return  the  vehicle  empty." 


A   SHOCKING  LIE. 


75 


Laura  was  still  aglow  with  the  exertion  and 
bustling  about ;  she  was  vexed,  impatient,  and 
generally  in  that  discommoded  state  into  which 
getting  dressed  under  difficulties  on  a  hot  day 
plunges  the  sweetest-tempered  woman.  And  she 
was,  moreover,  fully  aware  how  hopeless  was 
every  endeavor  to  change  her  mother's  mind. 
Yet  she  seated  herself  quietly,  confronting  the 
widow,  and  tried  to  smile  with  filial  obedience, 
as  she  pinched  the  finger  tips  of  her  unbuttoned 
glove. 

"I  know,  daughter,"  resumed  Mrs.  Lane.  "Mr. 
Broon  has  been  very  kind.  We  will  go  to-mor- 
row or  some  day  this  week.  The  heat  is  too 
severe  on  me.  Why,  love,  here  it  is  the  last 
week  in  June ;  our  very  hottest  weather,  often, 
in  the  whole  season !  And,  besides,  I  must, 
before  I  go,  see  Dr.  Smiles  once  more.  He 
was  here  last  night,  you  remember,  and  he  ad- 
vised me,  almost,  against  going  up  into  the  cool 
winds  and  nights  of  that  mountain  top.  He  is 
to  leave  the  village  himself  to-morrow;  his  family 
are,  possibly,  to  come  up  and  stay  at  the 
Notch.  He  wished  me  to  go  down  there,  for 
a  little   change." 

She  looked  hard  at  her  daughter  as  she 
spoke.     All    day  long    the    elder    lady    had    been 


76  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

trying   to   get   up   the   courage   to   make  this  com 
munication.     It   came   at   last   desperately. 

"Mamma  Lane!"  exclaimed  Laura,  with  face 
wreathed  in  unreal  smiles,  but  with  tones  really 
grave,  "  and  your  own  brother  a  guest  and 
friend  up  'there?  With  auntie  and  Madge  at 
Eaglecroft,  and  you  —  and  I,  for  of  course  I 
must  go  where  you  do  —  down  at  one  of  the 
Notch  hotels,  the  world  would  indeed  then  say 
that  we  were  gone  crazy,  quite!  And,  mamma, 
you  know  already  how  cordially  uncle  Phil  dis 
likes  this  physician.  You  remember  how  last 
winter,    down   at    S ,    he   almost  forbade  — " 

*'Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  was  the  indolent  yet  not 
altogether  unalarmed  reply.  "We  will  go  to-mor- 
row. Send  word  that  it  shall  be  to-morrow, 
dear  child.  In  fact,  I  was  to  send  a  messenger 
to  the  dear  doctor  if  we  did  leave  our  house 
to-day;  otherwise  he  was  to  call  after  tea.  I 
have   sent   no  word." 

Laura  stood  for  a  moment  apart,  with  her 
back  to  her  mother,  and  drumming  on  the  big 
fluted  column  that  supported  the  stoop,  her  foot 
patting  the  floor,  quite  often  the  manner  of  any 
only  and  spoiled  child.  Then  she  surveyed  her- 
self ruefully,  with  many  a  feminine  idea  con- 
cerning   the    new  travelling    suit,   which,   like    all 


A   SHOCKING  LIE, 


77 


her  dresses,  was  partly  her  own  work,  and 
partly  the  product  of  Cousin  Madge  Hardy's  city 
dressmaker,  generally  planned  during  the  winter's 
visit. 

Disappointment  is  a  youthful  experience ;  our 
maturity  and  our  age  know  little  of  its  keenness. 
Youth  and  a  trifle  on  which  the  heart  was 
set  and  disappointed,  that  is  the  bitterness.  We 
once  lamented  a  holiday  adjourned  more  than  in 
after  years  our  ship  that  never  came  to  land. 
And  then,  too,  life  was  so  indescribably  dull  of 
late  to  Laura  here  on  the  farm.  She  often 
asked  herself  why,  for  it  had  not  seemed  so  a 
year  ago.  But  worst  of  all,  what  would  Mark 
Broon  think  of  them  now  1  How  rude,  actually 
uncivil  we  are.  Or,  we  can  only  save  ourselves 
by  assigning  the  real  reason,  mamma's  subservi- 
ance  to  this  dreadful  man ;  which  will  seem 
worse  to  the  Broons  than  incivility.  I  will  give 
no  reason  !  No,  no ;  that  will  never  do,  even  for 
women,  who  may  often  do  a  thing  because  they 
wish  to;  for  uncle  Phil  would  claim  a  kinsman's 
right  to  be  angry.  I  must  say  just  why.  This 
in  her  thought ;  not  for  her  mother's  ears  of 
course. 

Then  she  turned  sharply  round  and  began,  as  she 
kissed  her  mother  and  stroked  her  gray  hairs; 


78  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

**  Mamma  dear,  you  know  full  well  that  I  shall 
be  good,  and  give  up  cheerfully.  You  are  all  I 
have  to  care  for  in  the  world.  I  often  say  that 
to  myself.  I  could  die  for  you,  mamma.  I  will 
cheerfully  adjourn  the  visit  till  to-morrow.  I  am 
sure  I'm  not  very  good  ;  but  I  will  be  faith- 
ful  to  my   mother  !  " 

This  was  getting  to  be  serious ;  evidently  a 
prelude  to  something  a  long  time  intended  to 
be  said.  The  girl  was  still  glowing.  The  lis- 
tener  was   gazing   in   astonished   expectancy. 

**  But,  mamma,"  Laura  resumed  fervently,  ''why 
cannot  we  free  ourselves  from  this  curious  doc- 
tor and  his  hateful  influence  over  us }  To  be 
sure,  he  can  make  a  table  tip,  but  what  relig- 
ion is  there  in  that.?  He  can  produce  his  spirit 
rappings,  but,  while  I  can't  explain  them,  I'm  sure 
there  is  no  power  of  a  good  and  holy  God  in 
such  mean  tokens.  God  has  spoken  with  thun- 
ders and  revealed  himself  in  the  lightning,  but 
I  cannot  believe  he  communicates  with  us  in 
these  silly  and  yet  fearful  knockings  !  Oh,  I  wish 
I  believed  as  other  people  do ;  I  mean,  as  the 
good  clergyman  and  respectable  people,  and  uncle 
Phil  and  Madge  and  auntie  and  —  and  Mark 
Broon   do  ! " 

"  My  dear  child,"  sighed  the  mother,    **  I  almost 


A   SHOCKING  LIE,  79 


wish  we  did  too.  But  in  any  event,  you  cannot 
deny  that  the  doctor  works  some  remarkable  cures 
by  spiritual  influences.  See!  there  they  come 
now." 

At  this  moment  the  doctor's  carriage  whirled 
up  the  little  ascent  just  below  the  house  and 
made  straight  on,  as  if  to  pass,  when,  as  if  the 
doctor  had  casually  caught  sight  of  the  two 
ladies,  the  horses  were  pulled  up  in  sudden 
halt.  The  doctor  alighted  in  the  dust  of  the 
road,  to  keep  up  the  seeming  of  an  unexpected 
visit,  and  he  picked  his  way  to  the  gate,  as  his 
son  turned   slowly  in   towards   the  post. 

'•'Good  evening,  ladies,"  said  he.  "What  a 
glorious   hour!" 

The  sunbeams  were  falling  across  the.  earth  in 
great  golden  bars  of  dust,  and  evening  damps 
made   truly   glorious   by   his   descending    rays. 

"You  see  I  waited  for  you,"  said  the  widow 
smiling. 

Laura  had  flown  away  to  dispatch  the  inimi- 
table message  to  the  Broons  ;  not  by  telegraph, 
but  by  horse,  which  would  intercept  and  turn 
back  the   carriage. 

"Oh,    she   has   only  a  note  to  write,"  explained 
Mrs.    Lane,   referring   to   the   vanishing  Laura. 
"You    did   right,   did    right."     said    the    healer 


8o  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

bowing  in  a  lordly  way,  and  seizing  the  patient's 
hand  without  ceremony.  "High,  very  high,  youi 
temperature ! "  Then  with  a  quick  and  sliding 
grasp  at  her  wrist,  "  Very  quick !  one  hundred ! 
Come  straight   in  !  " 

His  iron  grasp  left  her  no  discretion,  had  she 
not  been  instantly  and  strangely  obedient  to  his 
command.  She  was  led  like  a  child  into  the 
library  that  opened  off  the  hall.  She  was  com- 
pelled into  a  great  arm-chair,  a  chair  which  she 
had  kept  in  its  place  of  honor,  and  never,  till 
this  shrewd  necromancer  had  induced  her,  had 
she  occupied  that  chair  since  her  good  man 
died.  With  what  superstitious  fears  had  she  first 
sunk  into  it,  all  limp  and  shaking,  when  the 
healer  had  so  commanded.?  Even  now  to  sit 
there  was  to  be  subjugated,  instantly,  by  a  mys- 
tic  entrancement. 

"  Thus  again  enthroned  for  his  visit ! "  ex- 
claimed the  doctor,  as  he  stood  at  full  height 
before  the  widow,  and  gazed  reverently  over  his 
left  shoulder  at  a  life-sized  crayon  ot  the  de- 
parted Lane,  above  the  mantle.  Then  clasping 
hands  before  the  portrait  he  addressed  an  invoca- 
tion to  it,  saying,  "Come,  thou  spirit  departed! 
Thine  is  the  power  to  heal  her  whom  thou  yet 
ownest  as  thy  fond  wife;  mine  it  is  to  lift  the 


A  SHOCKING  LIE.  gl 

Jatch,  as  it  were,  for  thy  return,  no  more." 
And  much  more,  delivered  in  a  peculiar  mixture 
of  grandiloquence  and  meekness  hard  to  de- 
scribe. 

A  woman  of  strong  affections,  to  whom  the 
dead  man  had  been  almost  an  idol,  to  whom 
there  had  been  no  other  world  than  this  world 
till  her  idol  faded  from  it,  and  she  stood  turned 
to  stone,  asking  of  the  sky  and  clouds  and  Book, 
"Whither."  How  she  had  wept  and  read  that 
book  which  tells  of  the  other  world !  She,  who 
had  scarcely  ever  thought  to  turn  its  pages 
before.  And,  as  is  not  unusual  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, to  read  and  seek  a  too  liberal  mean 
ing  in  its  fifteenth  chapter  of  First  Corinthians, 
and  its  "  Revelation"  almost  drove  her  mad, 
She  read  it  to  follow  a  man,  and  not  her  God. 
What  a  terrible  five  years  had  she  passed  !  The 
farm,  whose  praises  were  in  all  mouths.?  Why, 
when  she  began  to  breathe  and  live  again,  after 
that  period  of  stony  madness,  it  was  the  farm 
alone  that  saved  her  from  self-destruction.  To 
do  with  it,  their  only  paradise,  as  he  had 
planned  to  do;  to  execute  and  achieve  each 
proud  hope  and  dream  of  his;  to  see  him  in 
every  field,  on  every  hill-side,  and  to  accus- 
tom   herself    to    the     thought    that    he    saw    her, 


82  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

was  indeed  ever  watching  her.  She  used  to 
talk  with  him,  as  she  thought,  when  alone.  She 
actually  adored  him  in  her  evening  prayers.  If 
she  mentioned  the  name  of  God,  it  was  only 
because  she  felt  that  it  might  somehow  be  nec- 
essary for  her  audience  with  her  dead  one.  She 
believed  now  in  heaven ;  but  it  was  a  heaven  of 
her  own  furnishing,  as  truly  as  her  dwelling  was. 
It  might  have  contained  a  Ruler,  but  Him  she 
never  saw  as  a  Christian  sees  Him.  She  had 
abandoned  the  reading  of  those  scriptures  which 
so  confused  her  complaining  heart.  She  accused 
the  volume  which  tells  us  more  how  to  live 
in  this  world  than  it  gratifies  a  curiosity 
about  the  next.  She  had  taken  to  reading  the 
many  strange  books  which  stocked  her  husband's 
well  filled  library;  at  first  more  because  he  had 
thumbed  and  marked  them  than  because  she 
could  understand  them,  but  after  a  little,  since 
she  was  of  a  bright  mind  it  should  be  said, 
becoming  curious,  interested,  speculative,  and 
credulous  of  their  hard  incredulities.  I  tell  you 
all  this,  reader,  that  you  may  the  better  under- 
stand how  she  so  readily  became  a  victim  to 
this   conjurer  of   "familiar  spirits." 

Smiles  had  now  seated  himself  with  eyes  closed 
and    arms    folded.     The    twilight    shadows     began 


A  SHOCKING  LIE. 


83 


to  thicken  in  the  room  and  the  mystic  whispers 
of  leaves  in  the  evening  breeze  came  through 
the  window.  All  was  expectancy.  The  unearthly 
visitor  would  enter,  doubtless,  at  any  moment. 
The  lady  had  surrendered  herself  completely  to 
the  dear  anticipation.  Imagination,  that  immeas- 
urably strong  and  to  us  all  at  best  an  un- 
known faculty,  held  her  in  complete  and  willing 
thrall.  If  she  heard  the  younger  Smiles'  remark 
to  Laura  in  the  next  room,  whither  he  had  fol- 
lowed her,  ''Will  you  allow  me  to  open  the  piano? 

;  is  long  since  I  have  heard  your  divine  voice," 
in  Mrs.  Lane's  ears  it  was  as  an  echo  from  an- 
other  world. 

If    she  heard    Laura's    reply,    "I    cannot   think 

f  disturbing  mamma  with  music  on  occasion 
of  your  father's  professional  services  with  her," 
this,  too,  was  as  unreal  as  voices  in  a  dream. 
Poor  soul,  she  was  all  eyes  and  ears  for  her  spec- 
tral visitor!  She  has  yielded  herself  to  this 
one  jfigment  of  her  own  brain   till   she   would  not 

ive  regarded  it  had  a  straying  vagabond  froiA 
the  highway  entered   and    laid   thieving   hands   on 

ny thing  in  the  room.  Hence,  when  the  doctor 
,u  length  remarked,  "  He  comes !  Hark !  His 
rap  !  "  the  lady,  with  a  sudden  spring,  exclaimed, 
"Yes,  I  hear!    It  is  he.      He  comes!"    and  from 


84  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

her  chair  she  watched  It,  as  she  leaned  forward, 
reaching  out  pathetic  welcome  with  her  trembling 
hands. 

It  might  have  been  the  creation  of  the  shad- 
ows that  were  flung  across  the  moon-flecked  lawns 
and  in  at  the  wide  old  doors ;  shadows  that  were 
fitful  because  of  passing  clouds,  which  pushed 
their  silver  heads  up  over  the  trees  presaging 
summer  thunder  later  in  the  night.  It  might 
have  been  the  branching  vines  that  swayed  and 
beckoned  like  so  many  arms  outstretched  and 
which  tossed  their  counterparts  upon  the  pretty 
papered  walls.  It  undoubtedly  was  some  one  of 
these  mere  incidents  of  peaceful  twilight,  to 
healthy  minds  like  charms  unspeakable ;  to  hers 
the  tokens  of  the  supernatural,  which  furnished 
her  visitor  his  expedients  on  this  occasion.  There 
was  always  some  slight  external  expedients  nec- 
v^ssary  to  the  doctor ;  though  his  greatest  helper 
was  the  patient's  own  diseased  imagination.  He 
preferred  evening  consultations ;  the  nerves  are 
more  excitable  when  weary  at  the  day's  close. 
He   generally  came   here   about   twilight.       In    his 

own    office  at  S he    had    many  appliances  of 

darkened  rooms,  a  throne  for  himself,  etc.  At  the 
hotel  his  ingenuity  was  put  to  severe  test.  But 
your  deceiver    is  always  ingenious;     his  inventive 


A   SHOCKING  LIE.  8S 

power  should  have  tempted  him  to  legitimate  uses 
and  a  legitimate  livelihood.  They  might  have  pro- 
duced a  telephone.  Remember,  moreover,  that 
even  the    sick  are  ready   to   be   deceived. 

And  now  there  came  to  this  willing  victim  of 
her  maddening  and  unsanctified  bereavement  vi- 
sions as  fantastic  as  those  of  opiate  dreams. 
They  emerged  to  her,  at  the  wand-like  motions 
of  this   man's   finger,    out   of  the   gloom. 

A  bust  of  Shakespeare,  over  the  book-cases, 
moved  its  eyes  to  her !  An  antique  shield  on 
the  wall  palpitated  like  the  moving  breast  of  a 
breathing  creature.  She  saw  blood  stains  on  the 
tips  of  the  spears  which  were  crossed  behind  the 
shield. 

The  room  suddenly  grew  awful  in  a  brilliant 
light,  no  doubt,  for  she  withdrew  her  out- 
stretched hands  for  an  instant  to  shade  her  eyes. 
Then,  as  quick  a  change,  no  doubt  to  inky 
larkness,  for  she  groped  and  felt  about  with 
waving   hands. 

A  pile  of  engravings  in  the  corner  became  a 
hundred  portraits;  of  her  husband  in  different 
postures ;  of  her  only  other  child,  a  son  lost  in 
his  fair  babyhood :  of  her  own  parents  and  other 
kin,  gone  into  the  Unseen,  years  ago.  "  Com- 
panion spirits,  "  softly  whispered  Smiles  at  a  ven- 
ture, shrewdly  guessing  at  her    delirium. 


86  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"Yes,  yes,"  sighed   the  victim. 

At  which  confirmation  of  his  sharp  conjecture, 
her  visitor  took  up  the  tale  of  their  biographies ; 
he  dealt  in  such  generalities  as  could  not  be 
far  amiss  of  the  lives  of  parents,  husband,  child 
and   friend. 

She  thought  she  saw  that  huge,  old  fashioned 
center  -  table,  relic  of  the  Mayflower  days  and 
heirloom,  stand  poised  upon  one  of  its  claw- 
carved  legs,  and  stretching  out  another  leg,  stalk 
like  a  great  fowl  across  the  library !  All  its  mov- 
able burdens  rode  in  safety !  The  pen  did  not 
fall  from  the  inkstand's  side.  The  ink  was  un- 
spilled ;  and  she  was  conscious  of  no  housekeep- 
er's solicitude  for  the  scarlet  coverlet !  I  have 
heard  her  tell  these  things,  years  away.  Even  yet 
she  shudders  at  the  memory ;  and,  as  she  halts 
m   the  narrative,   turns  to   her  auditors   with  : 

"  Explain   it ;  can  you  ? 

"  It  was  all  in  your  mind.  Or,  may  be  it  is 
not  yet  explained  scientifically ;  but  it  will  yet  be. 
After  all,   what   religion  was   there  in   that  1 " 

"True  enough.     And  yet — " 

But  you  are  supposed  to  be  in  that  room,  a 
spectator,   my   reader,   years   ago. 

"  Are  we  administering  the  proper  medicines }  " 
asked  the  doctor.     "If   so,   please  rap  twice." 


A   SHOCKING  LIE.  87 

Did  you  not   hear  the   double  knock? 

"Is  my  great  work  worthy  of  all  encourage, 
ment   and  effort?     If  so,  give  the  triple  token." 

Did  you  not   hear  the  three  sharp  signals  ? 

"Will  you  guide  my  hand  in  writing  a  mes- 
sage ? " 

Smiles  whipped  out  a  tablet  and  stretched  his 
limp,   quiescent   hand   upon   the  table. 

For  a  long  time  there  was  no  response.  This 
ilence,  this  waiting,  this  eager  expectation 
of  a  voice  from  that  voiceless  world !  This  con- 
centration of  strained  faculties  upon  unearthly 
and  unnatural  hopes !  Every  tick  of  the  great 
clock  in  the  hall  was  like  a  hammer  stroke. 
How  heavy  is  the  footfall  of  Time  when  one 
gives  his  whole  hearing  thereto.  One  ceases  to 
wonder  that  such  footsteps  shake  down  the  hills 
and  grind  proud  temples  to  dust.  A  year  is 
nothing.  We  are  too  finite  to  appreciate  it.  It 
is  an  hour,  here  and  there  in  life,  that  reveals 
to  us  what  Time  is.  It  is  occasional  heavy  and 
slow-stepping  moments  that  overwhelm  us ;  they 
are  weightier  than  years. 

All  of  which  this  cold  philosopher  knew  well. 
He  waited  by  the  moment.  The  great  clock  was 
now  holding  the  whole  house  in  awe.  At  least  there 
*^as  no  more  sound  from  the  dining-room  beyond, 


SS  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

t 

where    Erastus     and    Laura    sat,   than     from    the 
library. 

At  last  this  old  conjurer  broke  the  spell  by 
saying  : 

"It   moves   me;   I   write." 

Oh,  it  was  all  vulgar  enough.  The  old  and 
earliest  paraphernalia  and  methods  of  a  deception 
which,  no  doubt,  in  later  years,  has  learned  newer 
and  more  brilliant  methods.  But  it  was,  and  is 
ever,  the  same  old  lie.  I  am  describing  it  as  it 
was  seen  twenty  years  ago  in  New  England 
Visions,  table-tippings,  rappings,  and  "communi 
cations  from  the  spirit  world."  And  it  "de 
ceived  many,"  even  as  the  Christ  had  mourn- 
fully foretold  it  should  "in  later  and  perilou.5 
times." 

The  next  step  was,  of  course,  to  call  in  liis 
son  and  her  daughter  —  if  he  could  rely  on  the 
young  lady's  quiet  assent  as  a  witness  and  unpro- 
testing, —  read  the  handwriting  and  pronounce  this 
day's  work  done.  The  doctor's  long  forefinger 
mow  pointed  to  the  room  where  the  young  peo- 
ple sat.  His  lips  did  not  move ;  his  extended 
arm  kept  its  sustained  gesture.  A  moment 
seemed  to  the  staring  widow  an  hour,  a  year, 
an  age.  She  grew  amazed  that  mortal  flesh 
could  so  long  support  the  weight  of  an  extended 
arm. 


A   SHOCKING  LIE.  89 

"Oh,  spare  the  child,  doctor!"  The  widow 
gasped  it. 

She  understood  the  finger.  But  she  had  grown 
strangely  unwilling  to  involve  her  daughter  deeper 
in  "  the  mysteries"  that  had  of  late  seemed  to 
cast  such  gloom  and  terror  over  the  fair  young 
life.  Still  she  had  never  got  the  strength  to  pro- 
test till  now.  The  struggle  was  like  a  convul- 
sion.    Poor  soul ! 

The  finger,  however,  was  relentless.  Ages 
wore  swift  on  before  the  widow's  crazy  vision. 
The  finger  was  pointing  still.  Then  the  mother 
yielded. 

"L  — La— Laura!" 

The  quavering  voice  of  her  call  was  heart- 
breaking in  its  anguish.  It  was  one  of  those 
unnatural  vocal  sounds  that  we  all  have  heard 
from  the  parted  lips  of  a  troubled  sleeper,  the 
nightmare   cry. 

"  Laura, —  L  —  L  —  Laura  !  " 

And  the  effect  of  this  cry,  as  it  penetrated 
into  tlii!^  next  room,  falling  upon  the  affectionate 
daughtei*^3  ears  ?  Well,  we  must  make  allowances. 
This  was  not  the  first  time  —  Heaven  pity  the 
child !  —  that  she  had  heard  such  tones  from  her 
mother,  "while  undergoing  treatment."  And  yet, 
there    was   something    so   unusual  in  this   present 


po  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

Instance,  so  terrorizing  to  the  ears  of  affection, 
that,  with  a  spring,  Laura  Lane  flew  towards  the 
door. 

"  Oh,   mamma,   mamma !  ** 

But  she  did  not  cross  the  threshold ;  she  stood 
upon  it,  with  hands  clasped  in  front  of  her,  with 
eyes  dilated,  with  lips  parted,  yet,  after  her  ejac- 
ulation, uttering  no  sound.  The  pointing  finger 
of  the  conjurer  confronted  her.  The  death -like 
pallor,  the  ghastly  stare  of  her  mother's  face 
and  eyes  were  shocking.  She  had  no  power  to 
move  forward,  till  Erastus,  quickly  at  her  elbow, 
offered  to   assist   her. 

**  But  —  but  I  cannot  enter  that  room ! "  she 
exclaimed  pleadingly,  with  a  turn  of  her  head 
towards   the  young  man. 

"  It  is  indeed  an  outrage  to  force  you  there ! " 

This  from  his  lips,  which  were  close  to  her  ear, 
and  in  subdued  yet  vehement  utterance.  To  his 
honor  be  it  said  the  hot  blood  of  indignant  affec- 
tion  was   flushing  his  features. 

*'0h,  sir,  I  thank  you,"  quickly  responded  the 
girl,  at  the  same  time  grasping  his  arm  with 
both  her  hands,  and  for  the  first  time  in  all  their 
acquaintance  manifesting  anything  like  interest  in 
him  with  the  eyes  she  turned  full  to  meet  his 
own.      "Let  us   go  out  at  the    side  door;    I  am 


A  SHOCKING  LIE.  91 


faint ! "     And  she  clung  to  the  arm    she  had   em- 
braced  as   if  for  refuge. 

"Erastus,  my  son!"  solemnly  spoke  the  doc- 
tor. 

"Well,  sir!" 

It  was  decidedly  defiant.  All  the  chivalry  in 
the  young  fellow's  soul  was  bestirring  itself.  Yet 
he  paused,  for  all  that,  midway  of  his  second  foot- 
step towards  the  proposed  side  door. 

"Well,  indeed!"  was  the  doctor's  rejoinder, 
while  his  pointing  finger  began  to  vibrate.  *  Every 
motion  of  the  finger  seemed  to  deride  his  sudden 
resolution  of  rebellion.  The  finger  bent  its  first 
joint  and  then  straightened  itself  again.  The  mo- 
tion seemed  a  warning.  The  finger  caught  itself 
on  the  arc  of  the  thumb  and  then  snapped  itself 
out  again;  there  was  all  the  unspeakable  con- 
tempt of  conscious  power  in  his  little  movement. 

The  young  man  changed  from  chivalric  red  to 
craven  white.  He  looked  down,  after  all  his  high 
glancing.      He   bit   his  lip,      He  obeyed. 

"  Come,  Miss  Lane,  let  us  go  in  with  our 
parents.     I  will  accompany  you." 

If  he  had  only  known  how  near  he  this  once 
came  to  winning  at  least  her  respect,  respect 
without  which  surely  there  can  be  no   love ! 

''  I  might  have  known, "  she  stammered  out  in 


92  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

a  helplessness  that  I  cannot  explain,  "that  you 
would  not  dare  disobey  that  —  that  man,  even  to 
save   a  woman's  reason  ! " 

Erastus  Smiles  but  shut  his  teeth  hard  together, 
and  began  to  release  her  arm  from,  his  own,  at 
the  same  time  stepping  behind  her  as  if  he  fully 
expected  her  to  precede  him  into  the  little 
parlor. 

The  two  young  people  entered  the  room,  Eras- 
tus taking  a  seat,  Laura  standing  just  within 
the  doorway,  her  blue  eyes  staring,  flashing,  had 
there  been  light  to  see  them.  She  had  never 
witnessed  such  extent  of  audacity  in  their  visitors 
before  ;  and  this  of  itself  alarmed  her.  She  had, 
moreover,  of  late  begun  to  regard  the  whole 
affair  as  bordering  on  sacrilege,  thanks  to  Mark 
Broon's  unmistakable,  though  but  occasional,  utter- 
ances. Yet  recollect,  reader,  that  she  had  been 
literally  trained  with  no  religious   faith  whatever. 

And  now  the  finger  dropped  to  the  doctor's 
side. 

"I  am  to  read  you  the  advice  from  another 
world."  he  began.  "It  is  obscure,  yet  the  way- 
faring man  may  not  err  therein." 

Reading:    ^^  Let  everything  favor  him  J* 

Smiles  paused  impressively,  and  looked  around 
with  a  mien  that  asked,  "To  whom  can  that 
apply  but  my  benignant  self.?" 


A   SHOCKING  LIE,  93 


Reading :  *'  As  all  good  metiy  in  these  later  years, 
now  share  their  goods,  in  some  portion,  with  the 
suffering  in  the  world  they  leave  behind  at  death, 
I  regret  that  I  gave  naught  to  benevolence  in  my 
last  tvill  and  testament,  ** 

Another  impressive  pause. 

Reading :  "//   is  not  yet  too  late'' 

"Not  too  late?'*    eagerly  asked  the   widow. 

"  Mamma !  mamma  !  "  protested  Laura,  unable  to 
longer  keep  her  silence.  Yet  such  was  the  sway 
of  that  mad  hour,  so  utterly  undefended  was  this 
beautiful  girl  by  any  counter  and  true  belief,  so 
boundless  was  her  loyalty  of  love  for  her  mother, 
who  seemed  that  moment  like  one  enraptured 
and  ecstatic,  that,  at  a  mere  motion  of  her 
mother's  hand,  she  stayed  her  own  advancing  foot 
and  stilled  her  indignant  tongue. 

"So  readeth  it:  *not  yet  too  late,*"  reiterated 
Smiles. 

"Tell  me  howl"  shrieked  the  widow,  springing 
to  her  feet.  "If  it  be  our  money,  was  it  not 
all  his  ?  If  the  gift  of  it  will  ease  his  soul, 
give  free,  blessed  sir !  I'll  bestow  all  my  — -  his 
goods  to  feed  the  poor!  If  it  be  this  home, 
why,  sir,  say  to  him  that  all  the  trooping  sick 
shall  come  and  stock  their  crutches  in  this  yard 
till   they  pile   as   high   as   in   the   days   of  Galilee! 


94  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

Oh,  I  have  read  in  his  books  of  late  how  monks 
and  nuns  were  wilhng  to  turn  beggars  in  old 
times,  surrendering  princely  estates  and  palaces 
to  obey  a  creed  outworn.  Shall  not  I  do  as 
much  at  the  call  of  the  new  ?  Take  pen,  sir ! 
Take   pen  !    Oh,  thank  you." 

She  flung  herself  wildly  upon  her  daughter's 
neck.  A  paroxysm  of  weeping  now  came  to  the 
relief  of  those  surcharged  nerves.  The  dutiful 
daughter  caught  her  little  mother  in  a  tender 
and  strong  embrace  of  rescue.  The  man  Smiles 
was  busy  writing  now  at  the  table.  He  had 
gone  far  enough ;  perhaps  further  than  he  had 
intended.  Indeed,  he  might  have  detected  as 
much  in  the  alarmed  face  of  his  amazed  and 
shaking   son. 

"Sir!"  exclaimed  Laura,  "you  are  cruel  and 
wicked  if  you  do  not  help  me  convey  her  to 
her   room." 

"  No,  daughter,"  faintly  whispered  the  mother, 
with  an  effort,  standing  erect  and  beginning  to 
move  away.  "  I  am  quite  able  to  walk.  Oh, 
what  an  hour !  The  opening  heavens !  Bring  me 
the   writing  !  " 

"  Never,  mamma,  never !  "  cried  Laura.  "  He 
—  they — neither  of  these   two   impostors  —  " 

"Girl  I "   cried   Smiles   the   elder,    advancing    t€ 


A   SHOCKING  LIE,  95 

wards  her,  "  how  dare  you  !  The  room  is  full  of 
supernal  visitants  !  It  was  your  father's  command 
which  I  read  I  And  I  did  not  read  it  all ;  there 
is  a  line  for  you.  It  reads :  *And  let  not  my 
daughter  separate  her  lot  from  these  things' 
My  son/*  and  he  turned  towards  Erastus,  who 
still  kept  silence  be  it  said  to  his  shame,  "will 
explain  further  to  you.  You  assent?  You  are 
silent.  Now  go  with  your  mother,  like  a  good 
girl.  Another  day  we  shall  know  better  our 
next   step." 

Such  was  the  audacity  of  the  man,  such  the 
peculiar  power  of  his  vulgar  daring  that  this  girl 
stood  speechless,  her  face  like  marble  in  the 
moonbeams,  that  entered  as  the  only  light,  for 
not  a  lamp  had  been  touched,  though  it  was  now 
quite  night  darkness;  stood  matchless  in  the  sil- 
ver glow,  a  creature  all  fears,  all  dismay,  all 
suffering,  all  helplessness;  yet  so  awe-inspiring 
in  her  defenselessness,  shielding  her  mother 
there  in  the  wide  doorway,  that  both  these  men 
gathered  themselves  together  and  stole  away 
without  another  word. 

There  be  spoilers  of  your  goods,  who  break  in 
to  rob  your  house;  there  be  also  robbers  of  the 
mind,  like  these.  I  tell  no  tale  with  the  com- 
mon plot  of  defenseless  women   and  vulgar   burg- 


96  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

lary,  but  worse:  a  theft  of  all  sound  faith,  sound 
hope,   sound   mental  state. 

Of  that  night's  after  hours  I  have  never  dared 
ask  a  narrative.  The  sobbing  of  the  sea  which 
succeeded  such  a  tempest;  the  wildness,  the  in- 
coherent cry  of  pleasure  and  of  pain  incongru- 
ously commingled;  the  abject  misery  of  the 
daughter,  ministrant  to  a  mother  not  insane,  yet 
almost.  The  medicines  of  words,  of  tears,  of 
lavings,  of  home  decoctions,  and,  first  and  last, 
of  caresses.  The  sleeplessness  as  the  short  June 
night  was  changed  too  quick  to  somber  twilight 
of  the  dawn  again.  And  when  the  elder  one 
grew  calm  at  length,  the  younger  one  was  needy 
of  her  soothing,   all   in   turn. 

The  sense  of  shame,  with  apprehensions! 
What  had  they  written.?  Had  they  written  any- 
thing.? Had  they  signed  anything.?  The  gray 
light  of  morning  making  fhe  dear  old  home  hate- 
ful in  the  younger  lady's  eyes.  Plans  and  coun- 
ter-plans for  the  morrow.  Should  they  go.?  Had 
they  strength.?  Yes,  yes.  Laura  was  sure  they 
had  strength  for  flight.  Had  they  strength  for 
maskings  hour  by  hour  after  they  should  come 
beneath  those  kind  and  yet  searching  eyes  at 
Eaglecroft.?     They   could   not   tell. 

But   evening  would    tell.     Meanwhile,    to    sleep. 


A  SHOCKING  LIE, 


97 


A  closed  blind,  a  strange,  unwonted  stillness  all 
around  the  farm.  Servants  with  slippered  feet 
creeping  about  and  whispering.  Bees  buzzing  at 
the  vines.  The  afternoon  sun  declining  all  in 
good  time.  Mr.  Broon's  carriage.  The  key 
turned  in  the  front  of  the  house  as  if  for  the 
last   time,   so   Laura  questioned   in   her  mind. 

"We  do  not  know  when  we  shall  return," 
was  Laura's  last  word  to  the  servant.  "The 
farmer  will  come  up  to  Eaglecroft  if  he  wishes 
to   consult   us." 

"What  could  you  mean?"  asked  Mrs.  Lane, 
comfortably  settling  herself  for  the  ride,  "by 
saying  that  we  do  not  know  when  we  shall  re- 
turn.?" 

"I   don't   know,"   was   the  girl's   reply. 

But  her  gaze  backward,  just  as  the  farm  gable 
was  shut  out  of  view,  had  so  much  of  dread 
in  it,  that  it  might  have  given  an  answer  to  a 
more  critical   observer. 

"I  have  signed  no  papers  tnat  I  ought  not.?" 
was  another  remark,  later  on,  from  the  mother. 

"  Oh,  I  trust  God,  no ! "  wearily  sighed  Laura. 

Otherwise  they  rode  on  in  almost  unbroken 
silence. 


98  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


V. 

HIS  MOUNTAIN   PALACE. 

a  X^\7"ELL,  sis,"  was  Mr.  Philip  Hard/s 
^  cheery  greeting,  as  the  carriage  con- 
veying Mrs.  Lane  and  Laura  halted  under  the 
portico  at  Mark  Broon's  mountain -top  lodge. 
"  I  think  it  is  high  time  you  brought  that  white 
face  of  yours  away  from  home.  I'm  almost 
fraid  to  kiss  it,"  —  he  did  kiss  it,  however, 
very  promptly  and  affectionately,  —  **for  a  good 
breath  might  blow  it  away,"  patting  its  wan 
cheek.  "My  sister,  captain,"  as  he  introduced 
her  to   Mark's   father. 

Between  these  two  huge,  handsome,  healthy 
gentlemen,  all  laughter  and  banter,  beaming  a 
high-bred  contentment  and  generous  self-satisfac- 
tion towards  all  the  world,  how  frail  this  trem- 
bling woman  seemed.  It  being  a  family  party 
largely,  there  was  instantly  a  flutter  of  more 
plumage  of  womankind  about  the  two  gentlemen 
than  they  could  make  a  path  through.  The 
pretty    and    amiable    Madge    Hardy,    arms    about 


HIS  MOUNTAIN  PALACE, 


99 


her  cousin  Laura,  with  such  a  profusion  of 
greetings,  all  sunny  as  herself.  The  two  elder 
ladies,  hostess  and  guest,  descending  the  stone 
steps  to  add  themselves  to  the  welcome.  Mark 
Broon,  on  the  outskirts  as  yet,  somewhat  impa- 
tiently waiting  his  opportunity;  for,  though  the 
dwelling  was  his  own,  he  always  allowed  his 
father  and  mother  to  take  the  lead  in  hospital- 
ities,  since  he  ''was  only  half  a  man  as  yet,  for 
purposes   of   hospitality,    being   bachelor." 

Everything   wore   the   happy   look.     The  magnifi 
cent    front    of    the    superb    house    radiant    in    its 
fresh    colors     and     newness,     with     great    windows 
and    doorways    wide     open     to    the    glory   of    the 
summer's      evening;     a     flush     of     the     afterglow- 
painting    its    tower    and    gables    as    its     flag    fell 
gracefully,    dipping    to    the    departing    sun.      The 
happy   look    on    newly-made   flower-beds   and  strug- 
gling  young   lawns ;   on    the   faces    of  Mark's  dogs 
that    stood    wagging    and    grinning    at    his    back; 
»n    the   servants   waiting   to   serve   the   new   arriv- 
es;    on    the   giant   maples    and   beeches,    primeval 
wellers    here,     and    spared    the    ax    wherever    it 
were    possible,  bowing   lofty  courtesies ;    on  )irbane 
kies,    bending    so    near,    and    hanging    far    below 
the    curtains   of   fantastic   cloud.     Gaze  which   way 
one  would,  on   man    and   beast   and   nature,  every 


100  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

where  the  happy  look,  which  sometimes— who 
shall  say  it  is  not  always,  for  such  eyes  as  can 
see   it? — this   present   glorious   world  takes  on. 

As  they  trooped  into  the  house,  the  musicians, 
few,  yet  performers  not  devoid  of  taste,  ren- 
dered their  part  of  the  honors.  The  melody  in- 
vaded the  chambers  whither  the  women  repaired, 
all  helping,  with  obsequious  hindrance  of  fin- 
gers and  tongues,  the  preparation  for  "coming 
right  down  to  the  waiting  dinner."  And  the 
music  was  from  without,  coming  in  at  the  win- 
dows as  well,  if  the  fickle  breeze  so  pleased; 
you  were  tempted  to  the  casement  in  little 
pauses  of  your  dressing  to  listen,  and  you  forgot 
the  music  in  the  dim,  far  vision  over  the  slum- 
bering world  beneath,  over  which,  not  a  score 
of  miles  away,  so  it  seemed,  there  arose  the 
evening  star.  You  sat  down  on  the  cushioned 
window  ledge,  Laura  Lane,  with  Madge  Hardy 
at  your  hair,  and  chattering  like  a  magpie,  like 
this : 

"Tell  me  now,  coz,  for  mamma  and  I  think 
he  is  just   splendid!** 

And  then  in  the  next  breath,  giving  you  no 
chance  to  reply: 

"Papa    thinks    him  very,   very  manly.'* 

Then:   "And   such  a  glorious   house!** 


HIS  MOUNTAIN  PALACE,  loi 


Then:  "Yes,  mamma,  we  are  coming.  Most 
ready." 

Finally:  "Why,  how  dull  you  are,  child.  Are 
you  indeed  so  tired  ?  It  must  be  dreadfully  dull 
at  the  farm.  And  poor,  dear  auntie,  too !  But 
you  will  be  yourself  here  in  an  houn  No  one 
can  feel  depressed  here  long,  except  when  the 
gentlemen  get  to  talking  about  this  dreadful 
coming  conflict." 

"  What } "  exclaimed  Laura,  almost  for  the  first 
time  showing  genuine  interest.  "Is  anything 
else  going  to  come   upon   us } " 

There  was  something  in  Madge's  tone,  and 
furtive,  half-affrighted  glance  as  she  spoke,  that 
was  worse  than  the  words  she  had  quoted  from 
the  men's   conversation,    "coming  conflict." 

"Oh,  dear,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Madge  ris- 
ing up  from  the  broad  window  ledge  on  whose 
crimson  cushion  her  blue  spread  out  so  prettily. 
"Let  me  fasten  your  hair  just  a  bit.  They 
talk  about  a  dreadful  war,  and  all  the  men  to 
be  called  to  the  front,  while  we  poor  creatures 
sit  at  home  and  —  There !  now  you  look  charm- 
ingly.    Let's   go   down." 

But  Laura  stood  stock  still,  staring  at  her 
cousin,  her  look  of  alarm  returning,  but  only 
•parting  her  lips. 


102  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

**Why,  coz,"  exclaimed  Madge  tugging  at  one 
arm,  through  which  she  had  linked  her  own,  and 
bending  to  kiss  the  affrighted  face,  "something 
must  have  gone  quite  wrong  with  you  to-day. 
Or,  is  it  the  war  ?  I  felt  just  as  shocked  at 
first.  I  suppose  we  hear  much  more  of  it  in 
the  city  than  you  do  up  here;  and  we  were 
so  alarmed  about  brother,  —  for  fear  he  might 
get  patriotic,  you  know.  But  papa  called  it  all 
foolishness ;  said  that  of  course  some  of  our 
friends  would  go.  You  know  the  government 
has  a  regular  army.  There  now,  tell  me,  are 
you  really  so  far  along  as  to  be  apprehensive 
for   him?" 

"  No."  Very  decidedly.  "  Of  course  not,  you 
simpleton,"  blushing.  "There,  indeed!  Let's  go 
down." 

Whatever  else  Laura  had  said  in  reply  to  this 
running  fire  of  small  talk  was  monosyllabic  and 
too  uninteresting  to  record.  But  the  brilliant 
table  scene  wrought  its  charming  change  on 
every  one ;  and  it  was  the  beginning  of  a  charm 
that  lasted,  helping,  hour  by  hour,  the  stout 
heart  of  youth  and  innocence  to  wear  a  look 
that  was  not  all  a  mask.  And  the  elder  heart, 
of  the  two  we  are  especially  anxious  about  just 
now,    relieved    of    its    incubus    somewhat    among 


HIS  MOUNTAIN  PALACE.  103 

these  healthy  people,  got  something  of  its  old 
steadiness  again,  after  an  evening  of  blithe 
society,  music  and  busy  tidings  from  the  outer 
world.  The  ladies  actually  got  to  talking  dress, 
later  on ;  while  the  gentlemen  talked  politics, 
in  those  times  of  momentous  politics.  Then 
there  was  a  pairing  off  of  such  as  would  pace 
the  ample  veranda,  "to  sleep  the  better,"  as 
Capt.  Broon  explained,  taking  the  widow  upon 
his  arm,  and  adding  Mrs.  Hardy;  the  ex-mayor 
having  Mrs.  Broon;  and  Mark  with  Laura  and 
Madge. 

To  make  the  picture  truthful  to  the  last  detail 
—  and  it  reveals  you  the  Broons  in  a  word, — 
at  the  final  turn  on  the  veranda,  Mark  stepped 
through  the  window  with  his  ladies,  and  seated 
himself  at  the  organ,  which  was  built  in  an 
alcove   of  the  parlor. 

"You  will  make  all  allowances  for  a  half 
finished  instrument,"  he  explained ;  "but  we  can 
get  something  out  of  it.  It  is  my  father's 
favorite  music,  and,  I  may  add,  that  I  am  of 
the  same   mind." 

He  was  more  than  the  average  amateur  per- 
former. The  evening  hymn  had  room  in  the 
open-windowed  apartment,  and  amid  these  moun- 
tain   altitudes.      All    sung:     with     reverence    and 


104  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

gratitude,  all ;  but  from  no  throat  so  deep  and 
heartfelt  a  tone  as  from  the  bronzed-faced  old 
captain's,  voicing  to  his  God  a  thanksgiving  for 
the  day.  And  the  captain  was  the  priest  of  this 
home.  His  honest  prayer  was  as  his  honest 
smile,  with  which,  up  to  this  sedate  moment, 
his  honest  features  were   ever  beaming. 

The  night  was  better.  The  next  day  was  the 
best  the  Lanes  had  lived  for  weeks;  and  the 
added  days  sustained  the  promise  of  the  first. 
Soon  a  week  and  more  of  these  good  days  had 
run  away  amid  such  delightful  employments  as 
elude  the  pen,  like  the  epoch  when  a  nation 
has   no   history. 

The  visit  at  Eaglecroft  had  been  already  pro- 
longed into  the  third  week.  The  time  had  been 
lengthened,  despite  many  a  protest  from  the 
guests,  by  those  extended  excursions  about  the 
mountains  which  the  reader,  who  has  once  taken 
them,  can  but  remember  with  thrilling  pleasure. 
It  was  finally  agreed,  this  morning  of  which  we 
write,  that  the  party  should  not  yet  be  broken 
up.  The  ladies  should  remain,  while  Capt.  Broon 
and  Mr.  Hardy  returned  to  the  city,  for  a  few 
days  of  business.  Meanwhile,  Mark  was  to  do 
his  best  for  the  entertainment  of  so  many 
ladies. 


HIS  MOUNTAIN  PALACE,  105 

He  had^  resolved  to  begin  with  Laura  i  and 
his  buggy  and  span  were  at  the  door,  immedi- 
ately after  the  elder  gentlemen  had  gone  down  to 
the  railway  station,  for  a  drive  to  the  Crawford 
House.  These  two  alone;  the  glorious  ride  in  the 
hopeful,  gladsoijie  morning  should  decide  some 
things.     So   at   least   the   young   fellow   resolved. 

Decide  some  things }  Yes ;  for  nothing  had 
been  decided  in  the  frolicsome  week  past, — ex 
cept  this:  the  old  captain  had  been  taken  pris 
oner  by  the  magnificent  Laura.  And  Laura 
had  joined  the  other  "adorers"  of  the  grand 
old  man  whom   everybody  loved. 

"  She'll  do,  Mark  !  "  he  had  exclaimed.  *'  She 
is  the  loveUest  messmate  I  ever  saw.  And  she 
is  as  honest  and  good  as  she  is  beautiful.  Oh, 
what  health  she  has,  boy.  Such  a  woman  will 
never  give  her  husband  the  blues.  But  isn't 
she   just  a   shade  sad   about  something,  Mark.?" 

Truth  is  Laura  had  done  marvelously  well  to 
keep  her  sunshine  with  such  darkness  over  her 
path  of  duty.  The  sorest  trial  was  her  enforced 
dissimulation.  How  she  prayed  God  for  the 
privilege  of  speaking  out.  Yet  what  should  she 
say.?  She  loved  Mark  Broon.  She,  Laura  Lane, 
had  been  true  to  him.  But  Laura  Lane's  lips 
had    spoken    him  false.     Ani    yet  it  was   Smiles' 


I06  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

lips ;  not  hers.  It  was  he  who  misinterpreted 
her  silence,  that  evening.  Well,  why  not  con- 
fess  that,   and   explain   the   circumstances  ? 

Judge  why  not,  reader,  in  the  light  of  the 
following  scene. 

It  was  but  a  day  or  two  before,  on  one  of 
those  majestic  evenings  which  are  only  seen  upon 
mountain  tops,  that  the  whole  party  had  been 
sitting  upon  the  broad  veranda  looking  down 
upon  the  misty  valley  overarched  by  brilliant 
astral  heavens.  The  conversation  had  turned 
upon  the  supernatural.  Mrs.  Lane  had  boldly 
taken   her  part  in   the   round  robin   saying : 

"I   believe  that   mind   may   cure   disease." 

"Indeed,  prayer  blesses  the  means  we  use," 
promptly  exclaimed   the   captain. 

"Yes,  but  I  have  been  thinking  much  of  late 
of  this  unseen  world.  I  believe  some  men  have 
powers   delegated  from   heaven   to  cure." 

Her  brother  and  Mark  would  have  gladly 
changed  the  conversation,  but  she  would  not. 
She  warmly  returned  to   the  topic,  asserting : 

"If  I  could  afford  it,  I  would  establish  a 
hospital  in  which  cures  should  be  wrought  by 
means  not  generally  recognized  by  the  medical 
men.    I  —  " 

"  Zounds,  you  would  ! "     exclaimed    the   captain. 


HIS  MOUNTAIN  PALACE  107 

fairly  forgetting  himself,  "And  if  I  had  my 
tvay  I'd  blow  up  qm^yj  patent  medicine  shop 
which  is  stealing  the  wages  of  the  poor,  and 
drive  out  of  the  country  every  one  of  these  pre- 
tenders who  offer  to  cure  by  some  pretended 
message  from  heaven  which  blasphemes  the  God 
I   worship." 

Of  course  the  conversation  changed  then, 
•nstantly.  But  no  one  had  forgotten  the  old 
captain's  righteous  indignation ;  and,  least  of  all, 
Laura. 

"  He  will  never  respect  me  as  his  daughter 
when  he  knows  all,"  she  thought  "In  this 
high-minded  and  orthodox  home  how  like  tainted 
visionaries  we.  How,  oh,  my  God,  did  we  ever 
get  entangled  in  such  coils.?  But  it  is  too  late. 
I  will  tell  Mark  all,  when,  of  course,  he  will 
despise  me  as  his  righteous  old  father  would. 
Married  to  a  witch  and  companion  of  magicians ! 
rie   will    never." 

Hence  it  came  about  that,  with  a  heart  heavy 
with  its  desperate  resolution,  the  girl  came  trip- 
ping, a  lying  vision  of  beauty  and  joy,  to  the 
waiting   carriage  for  the    Crawford  House   drive. 

"Laura  Lane,"  exclaimed  the  lover  as  the 
horses  danced  gaily  along  the  drive,  "you  do 
not  help  me   to   descend   these   sharp  hills.     How 


I08  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

can  a  man  drive  and  be  looking  at  you  ? "  His 
tine  weather-colored  face  was  fairly  grave  in 
the   intensity   of   his   happiness. 

**  Why,  you  needn't  look  at  me,  Mark,"  she 
said  playfully ;  yet  no  woman  could  have  wholly 
resisted  that  manly  compliment.  She  felt  the 
thrill  of  his  admiration  in  every  nerve.  "  Please 
look  to  the  horses,  that's  a  good  boy,"  she  cried 
in  girlish  banter ;  but  the  woman  within  her 
was  mightily   moved. 

"  I  may  at  least  look  at  you  here  for  a  mo- 
ment," he  responded,  as  they  began  a  gentler 
assent,  "we  go  up  here  for  a  little,  and  then 
down,  down,  and  a  mad  whirl,  all  the  way  to 
the  valley.  Who  could  deny  himself  the  pleas- 
ure of  such  an  apparition  of  beauty  as  you  seem 
to  me.? — especially  if  he  meant  to  try  to  pos- 
sess  it   forever." 

He  was  all  respect  and  deference  in  every 
tone  and  motion.  He  was  almost  painfully 
grave.  His  face  was  turned  to  her  with  that 
reverent  gaze  which  she  had  always  seen  him 
give  his  father,  only  this  was  brighter.  Then, 
too,  he  had  some  "rights ;  she  had  known  him, 
and  welcomed  his  attentions,  now  these  many 
weeks.  She  had  encouraged  him  to  expect  this 
moment.  Her  own  heart  pleaded  his  rights 
But  her  resolve 


HTS  MOUNTAIN  PALACE.  109 

"Mark  Broon,"  she  said,  all  smiles,  "you 
know    that   we   are   not — not   engaged,    and  — " 

"  Say  not  so,  Laura.  Say  that  we  are  now 
and  forever  engaged  to  love  and  keep  each 
other  till   death   part  us." 

He  stopped  the  horses,  which  put  their  noses 
up  into  the  low  hanging  maple  boughs,  nibbHng 
the   tender   leaves   unforbidden. 

What  solid  ground  of  plain  facts  we  get  down 
to,  ye  poets  and  dreamers,  when  the  final  ques- 
tion comes  bluntly  from  an  honest  man.  Such 
serious   business,    arresting   romance. 

Mark  Broon  seemed  to  her,  for  the  moment; 
irresistible.  The  resolution  of  many  hours'  form- 
ing was  departing  on  the  zephyrs  that  fluttered 
her  white  plumes,  and  the  under  leaves  of  the 
greenwood  aisles.  She  was  dressed  in  white; 
her  cheeks  flushed  into  surpassing  beauty  of 
contrast.  For  a  moment  she  could  not  speak, 
and  her  delicate  hands  toyed  nervously  at  the 
ends  of  the  silken  ribbon  that  encircled  her 
waist.  Her  eyes  fell,  and  the  drooping  lids 
helped  her,  for  they  shut  him  out ;  but  those 
glorious  lashes  worked  against  her  purpose  after 
all,   for   they   inspired   the   man   anew. 

"  You  need  not  formally  say  yes,  like  the 
story-book  girl,"   he   exclaimed. 


no  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

He  had  whipped  off  the  glove  from  his  left 
hand,  and  was  searching  his  pocket  for  a  ring. 
He  had  it,  held  it  up  flashing  in  a  bar  of  sun- 
shine that  promptly  and  graciously  streamed  in  to 
envelope  them.  Still  she  did  not  speak.  Still 
he  could  have  thanked  kind  heaven  that  words 
were  not  needed.  Her  coy  silence  seemed  a  very 
profusion  of  assent.  He  would  have  forced  her 
hand  and  put  the  diamond  on  but  for  his  right 
hand's  grasp  on  the  rein.  He  dropped  the  rein 
to   do   it,  when    Laura   exclaimed   suddenly : 

**Stop  !     Heaven   help   me  !  " 

He  saw  her  lift  her  eyes  and  look  past  him. 
far  off  through  the  opening  of  the  trees  that 
combed  the  cHff  at  their  side.  The  wondrous 
blue  eyes,  not  tender  now,  but  stern,  or  as  near 
to  stern  as  such  kind  eyes  could  ever  be ;  their 
blue  was  deeper  than  he  had  ever  seen  it. 
They  looked  long  and  steadily  past  him,  and 
over  the  tinted  valley,  as  if  fixed  on  the  ends 
of  the  world.  It  was  but  for  a  moment;  yet,  in 
that  moment  her  eyes,  looking  past  him,  and 
quite  resolved  now,  had  put  a  thousand  miles, 
d   thousand   years   between   them. 

Mark  replaced  the  ring,  and  gathered  up  his 
horses  without  a  word.  The  road  fell  sharply 
off.     The  animals    felt    their    mettle.      In    silence 


HIS  MOUNTAIN  PALACE,  HI 

the  light  vehicle  spun  down  and  on,  whirling 
about  the  front  of  mountain  promentories,  under 
overhanging  brows  of  rock,  with  flecks  of  light 
and  shadow  streaming  over  them.  Laborers 
looked  up  from  their  stone-breaking  to  wonder 
at  her  beauty,  and  to  envy  him.  Toiling  j)e- 
destrians  paused  upon  their  staffs  to  look,  and 
vote  them  the  happiest  two  souls  in  the  moun- 
tains. The  smiling  vales,  a  thousand  feet  below, 
glanced  up  at  them,  from  time  to  time,  as  if 
these  two  were  glad  celestials,  deigning  to  come 
down  to  them.  Yet  never  was  a  bright  outer 
day   so   dark  within   these   two  young  hearts. 

They  must  have  gone  on  in  this  unexplained 
silence  for  some  time,  each  guessing  at  the  oth- 
er's thoughts.  The  precipitous  highway  and  the 
spirited  team  furnished  Mark  sufficient  occupa- 
tion; his  fair  companion  had  none,  unless  it  were 
to  note  the  tremor  of  the  frail  vehicle,  and 
think  that  it  surely  sympathized  with  a  part,  at 
least,    of   its   burden. 

Why  had  they  not  returned  ?  Sure  enough ; 
instead  of  subjecting  themselves  to  twenty  miles  of 
torture.  Because  motion  was  relief.  Think  of  the 
torture  in  a  chair  on  the  veranda  of  Eaglecroft, 
or  shut  up  in  one  of  its  chambers.  Fly,  fast  and 
far,  good  steeds.     Fly,  to  the  ends  of  the  world. 


112  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

At    length    Mark     turned    to    say: 

"We  have  but  a  mile  further,  and  we  shall 
be  at  the   Crawford." 

As  he  caught  sight  of  Laura's  face,  her  eyes 
were  full  of  tears.  He  was  sure  she  had  been 
weeping;  or  at  any  rate  was  ready  to  break 
down   utterly   under  her   self-imposed   trial. 

"  Laura, "  he  cried,  bringing  the  horses  to  a 
walk,  "have  I  ever  been  unkind  to  you.!*  i  will 
never  press  you  for  an  answer  nor  explanation. 
I  will  only  too  gladly  be  your  friend  as  long 
as  we  walk  the  earth.  Forgive  my  rude  silence. 
I  am  self-mastered  now.  I  claim  nothing.  The 
past  is  all  gone.  I  have  only  invited  you,  in  a 
friendly  way,  I,  your  host,  to  drive  with  me. 
Come,  speak,  and  say  you  believe  me.  You 
shall  find  me  a  gentlemen  the  rest  of  the 
day." 

She   beamed  upon   him,   exclaiming,  ardently : 

"You  are  always  a  gentleman,  Mark  Broon! 
You   are   the   noblest,   truest   of  men!" 

And  she  grew  to  look  so  eloquent  by  her 
distress,  though  her  words  came  with  stammer- 
ing and  the  slightest  little  sob  in  the  world. 
Who  can  describe  it?  Who  has  not  heard  it? 
What  man  ever  stood  up  before  it?  That  half- 
sob  of    a    beautiful    woman    whom    he    loved;    a 


HIS  MOUNTAIN  PALACE.  II3 

grief  which  was  yet  kept  from  sobbing  itself 
out  by  the  rush  of  a  high-spirited  discourse. 
She  went  on: 

"I  shall  forever  and  forever  revere  you,  Mr. 
Broon.  It  is  only  just  to  you  that  I  explain; 
but  I  cannot.  It  is  because  you  are  so  true  a 
heart  that  you  do  not  ask  me  to.  Probably  you 
will  never  know,  for  we  must  part  to-day  for- 
ever. But  you  will  never  doubt  me,  that — ,"  and 
she   stopped  short. 

That  was  the  very  point.  Of  course,  no  mat- 
ter what  she  said,  he  would  doubt  her  love 
sooner  or  later.  She  must  live  on  in  the  con- 
sciousness that  Mark  believed  her  a  girl  of  dou- 
ble dealings,  who  had  freely  encouraged  the  ad- 
vances  of  two   suitors. 

Mark  peered  into  the  demure  face  a  moment, 
as  she  remained  silent,  and  then  ventured,  with 
consummate  delicacy   breathing  in  his   tones : 

"Do  you  mind  telling  me  just  what  I  am 
never  to  doubt.   Miss    Lane?" 

At  that  moment  a  clatter  of  hoofs  sounded 
among  the  loose  stones  and  yellow  mulleins  of 
the  roadside.  Careless  of  his  horse's  legs  and 
his  own  neck,  the  rider  perseveringly  came  into 
as  full  view  as  if  he  had  met  them.  He  lifted 
his     hat    from     a    knobbed    forehead,    and    made 


114  A   WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

most   gracious   obeisance;   then   regained  the  road, 
and   showed   heels. 

"Oh,  Mark!"  How  she  revealed  the  secret 
heart  by  this  lapse  to  his  given  name  when 
frightened.  Laura  drew  her  fine  shoulders, 
shrinking  nearer  to  her  escort,  as  if  the  horse- 
man had  struck  hen  But  for  all  that  there  was 
something  of  such  deep  interest  in  the  look 
which  she  now  cast  after  the  vanishing  form, 
that  of  course  Mark  Broon  misunderstood.  A 
boy  in  love  is  always  a  fool  at  the  wrong 
time. 

"I  see,"  flashed  in  his  reply.  "That  adven- 
turer! That  liver- by-his-wits  !  Where's  his  noble 
sire?     They  hunt  together,  I  beheve,  generally." 

Mark  cast  a  look  behind,  as  did  Laura  also; 
but  Dr.  Smiles  was  no  equestrian,  and  had  not 
accompanied   his   son. 

Mark  Broon  in  silence  began  at  once  to  make 
his  misconception  greater.  He  thought  it  all 
out  in  a  moment  or  two;  how  this  girl  was 
"weaker  than  water;  was  a  mere  creature  of 
impressions  and  emotions;  was  evidently  her 
mother's  own  child,  after  all;  and  though  seem- 
ingly so  womanly,  there  was  yet  something  phys- 
ical or  mental  about  her  that  had  made,  or 
would    make   her  an   easy  victim    to    these    men. 


HIS  MOUNTAIN  PALACE. 


"5 


Had  she  not  been  trained  in  an  atmosphere  of 
oddisms  and  irreligion?  What,  then,  could  he 
expect  of  the  neglected  conscience?  Thackeray 
and  the  satirists  all  had  said  that  the  way  to 
make  a  woman  love  you  is  to  abuse  her;  had 
said  that  the  worst  men  storm  and  conquer  the 
best  women  for  wives.  Trouble  take  and  fly 
away  with  her!  She  would  never  be  a  safe 
wife.  And  yet,  my  God,  help  me!  How  lovely 
she   seems   to  the   eye!" 

Laura  Lane,  too,  built  up  her  fortress  of  mis- 
takes a  little  higher,  and  made  it,  in  that 
silence,  a  little  more  insurmountable,  if  pos- 
sible. 

"Of  course,  they  will  follow  us.  I  am  not 
surprised.  To-morrow  some  bird  will  fly  to 
mother,  and  she  will  insist  on  visiting  the  Craw- 
ford. Her  illness  will  return.  Could  Mark 
Broon  and  I  ever  marry  and  I  not  be  called 
upon  to  abandon  her,  my  mother,  as  one  hope- 
lessly enslaved }  And  my  property  involved,  I 
am  a  beggar  come  to  him !  And  old  Captain 
Broon?  Shall  I  explain,  and  open  my  heart  to 
that  dear  old  soul  ?  Can  I  ?  Oh,  unhappy 
world,  in  which  I,  such  as  I,  am  woven  in  like 
a  helpless  thread  with  vulgar  sharpers  and  cant- 
ing charlatans.     If    dear  mamma  were    insane,    I 


ri6  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

would  lock  myself  in  to  be  her  loving  nurse 
till  death.  She  is  not  insane.  She  is  supersti- 
tious, which  is  worse.  Mark  Broon,  my  idol,  I 
love  thee  too  fondly  to  tie  thee  in  this  net  of 
rogues  and  hypocrites.  And  thou  canst  not 
understand,    I    see." 

At  the  conclusion,  a  drop  of  anger  distilled 
into  her  cup  of  grief  and  love;  the  effect  of 
which  is,  not  to  help  us  to  repent,  but  to  be 
stout-hearted  in  a  perverse  course.  Pique  has 
often   masqueraded   in   the  guise   of  conscience. 

And  yet  Laura  could  not  endure  the  thought 
of  being  judged  a  flirt.  She  must  resume  the 
conversation ;  she  must  at  least  indicate  to  him, 
if  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  reveal  all  the 
shame  of  her  own  complication  with  the  two 
pretenders,  that  she  was  convinced  of  the  in- 
compatibility of  her  own  and  Mark's  religious 
training.  She  laid  her  hand  on  the  lines  as  a 
hint,  and  Mark  drew  up  his  horses  under  a  con- 
venient   shade,  the   Crawford  being  in  full  view. 

"I-^I  want  you  to  —  to  understand  that  I 
am  afraid  to  marry  you,"  which  was  such  a 
distraught  expression,  and  did  not  convey  her 
meaning  at    all. 

Mark  looked  at  her  in   blank  dismay. 

"That    is,"  she    hastened    to  resume,  "even    if 


HIS  MOUNTAIN  PALACE,  II7 

I  were  perfectly  free  to — to  marry  —  to  receive 
your  attentions.  What  I  mean  is,  suppose  the 
husband  loved  his  Bible,  and  the  wife  only  tol- 
erated it ;  suppose  one  preferred  the  prayer- 
meeting,  and  the  other  thought  it  inexplicably 
uninteresting  and  dull ;  suppose  the  man's  very 
soul  was  easily  moved  by  ''Jesus,  lover  of  my 
soul,"  and  the  woman's  soul  felt  no  answering 
thrill  from  the  hymn  that  could  compare  for  a 
moment  with  that  of  //  Trovatore ;  suppose  that 
in  his  trials  he  was  helped  by  a  miraculous 
faith,  but  she  was  ever  hindered  by  a  sensuous 
doubt ;  suppose  the  man  loved  Sunday  for 
worship,  and  the  woman  preferred  it  for  play ; 
suppose  you,  Mark  Broon,  feared  what  I  dared, 
and   dared  what    I  feared  —     Oh ,    my    glove !  " 

In  gesticulating,  with  charming  feminine  nerv- 
ousness, the  girl  had  flirted  to  the  ground  the 
glove  with   which   she   was   toying. 

"Of  course,"  cried  Mark,  and  he  was  out  ol 
the  vehicle  to  recover  it.  "You  wonderful 
woman,  I  protest.  You  are  not  made  for  augu- 
ment.  What  could  I  fear  that  you  would 
dare .? " 

"The  displeasure  of  your  unseen  Saviour,  for 
instance.  " 

He  pushed  his  straw    hat  from    his    brow  and 


Il8  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

Stood  there  regarding  her  without  reply;  but  a 
look  of  inexpressible  pain  fell  over  his  youthful 
face,  beclouded  in  the  summer's  day.  Then,  with 
eyes   cast   to   the   ground  : 

"  And   what   dare,   that  you   would  fear  ?  ** 

"  Death,   for  instance.  " 

"  Don't  talk  of  death,  we  are  so  young, "  he 
protested. 

It   was  her  turn  to   stare   in    surprise. 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  — I  thought  pious  people 
were  always  ready  to  die  ! " 

"  Yes,  ready ;  but  not  preferring.  The  sick, 
the  broken,  the  weary  and  the  aged  may  pre- 
fer to  go ;  but  not  the  young  and  hopeful,  to 
whom  life  is  joyous  duty.  The  good  Book  says 
To  live  is  Christ, '  a  mighty  predicate.  St.  Paul 
used  the  largest,  fullest  word  which  he  knew  in 
all  language  to  express  what  life  was  to  him, 
old  and  solitary  man  though  he  were.  It  is  a 
climax  when  he  adds,  *  but  to  die  is  gain.  * 
That  is,  departure  is,  to  the  Christian,  when 
God  calls,  more  than  even  the  grandest  life  can 
be ;  more  than  the  word  Christ,  used  adverbially 
could  tell.  The  Christian's  death  has  no  simili- 
tude with  which  earthly  language  can  express 
itself.  It  is  simply  more  than  Christ-living  on 
earth. " 


HIS  MOUNTAIN  PALACE,  119 


Mark  spoke  with  a  simple  eloquence  which, 
like  the  purest,  loftiest  eloquence  always,  is  only 
possible  with  an  audience  of  one,  and  that  one 
the  supreme  object  of  your  earthly  love. 

"Oh,  pity  me!"  cried  Laura.  "Do  you  not 
see  that  we  have  none  of  these  grand  ideas  in 
common .?  Our  joys  would  be  one  only  in  the 
mere  fringe  and  hem  ;  but  the  wide  breadths  and 
beautiful  texture  of  life's  joy  would  be  different 
for  each  of  us.  If  we  had  sorrows,  you  would 
pray,  but  I  would  not.  I  should  hear  you  pray  for 
me ;  but  you  would  never  hear  me  pray  for  you  : 
I  do  not  know  how.  You  should  have  a  wife 
named  Faith ;  for  I  think  the  Christian  life  -is 
heroic.  It  must  be  hard  enough  to  live  it,  on  that 
high  plane,  "  and  her  eyes  wandered  dreamily 
up  towards  the  crowning  heights  above  them, 
"when  each  helps  the  other.  But  when  one 
hinders  —  " 

"Stop!  Oh,  Laura,"  he  exclaimed,  seizing  her 
hand  over  the  arm  of  the  seat,  "I  will  teach 
you   all   this!" 

"You  cannot.     It  is  too  late!" 

"  If  I   cannot,    God   can    and    will.       And  may 

he  forgive  me  for  boasting    that   I    could    do  it! 

Laura,     it     would     need     but   some     great    shock, 

some  startling  call   of    awful    duty,   to    open    the 


1^0  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

heart,  in  such  a  state  of  searching  for  the  truth 
as  now  is  on  your  young  life,  to  awaken  your 
faith  in  God.  I  believe,  if  these  mountains  were 
now  to  begin  to  tremble  with  the  crack  of 
doom,  that  you,  with  me,  would  be  among  those 
who  wait  for  their  Lord ;  yes,  and  never,  there- 
after,  to  be  separated, 

"If  you  were  called  to  heaven,  now,"  and  her 
trembling  lips  made  sweetest  music  of  the  say- 
ing, "I  should  never  leave  off  looking  and  long- 
ing towards   the   clouds  that   hid   you." 

Instantly  he  was   at   her  side    in    the    vehicle 
he   took   her   two   hands,   while   the   £ecks   of  sun- 
light  through  the    maples    seemed    laughter    over 
the  twain. 

"  Look  with  me  into  life  like  that,  Laura. 
For,  God  is  my  witness,  that  I  forsee  that  I  am 
about   to   find  life  full  of  trials  from  thlcs  day!" 

"  What  do  you   mean  ? " 

"  I  can't  tell.  I  think  the  day  of  Tnrigmcn" 
must   be  near." 

"Is   it   the   war?" 

"  Would  you   give  me  a  *'^^r  ^'f  \    *rt:nt  ? " 

"Yes,   and  a — ^,"  but   sh/    ^j^usc. 

"Prayer?" 

Like  a  flash  it  came,  o/,  lie  was  exultant 
with  hope  in  an  instant. 


HTS  MOUNTAIN  PALACE.  121 

"  Don't  go !  Oh,  God  help  me  not  to  drive 
you  to   that!     Promise   me!" 

All  our  women  at  the  North  spoke  like  that 
at  first,  those  days.  Our  grandfathers  never 
knew  such  passionate  love  from  women  as  the 
war  evoked  for  the  men  of  our  generation.  At 
mention  of  the  war,  each  affrighted  woman 
opened  a  door  in  her  heart  so  wide  that  the 
hinges  were  almost  broken,  and,  thrusting  him 
in  to  the  inner  keep,  hid  the  man  she  loved, 
were  it  father,  husband,  brother  or  suitor;  then 
she  shut  and  bolted  the  doors.  This,  I  say,  at 
the  first. 

Mark  Broon  read  his  hope.  It  might  have 
been  pushed  to  a  plighted  troth  even  then,  but 
that  they  were  halting  directly  in  the  roadway 
of  the .  many  tourists,  who,  by  this  hour  of  the 
day,  were  wandering  down  towards  the  Flume,— 
and   among   them    Erastus   Smiles ! 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  drive  on  now  to 
the  hotel,  —  unless  in  a  whirlwind  of  repentance 
she  was  ready  to  cry,  '*  Ask  me  again."  But 
Erastus   Smiles  bowed. 

Laura  Lane's  confused  conscien':e  stifled  the 
cry,  and  Mark  Broon  spoke  to  the  horses  to 
move  on, — and  Erastus  Smiles  strolled  down  to 
wards  the  pool. 


122  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


VI. 

THE  WAR  MEETING. 

T"  IFE  was  gay  enough,  those  early  summer 
"^^  days,  in  the  mountains.  That  is,  at  the 
first  glance  you  would  have  said  so.  There  was 
much  coming  and  going  at  all  the  hotels ;  the 
railway  trains  were  never  longer,  the  dusty 
highways  were  never  more  cumbered  with  con 
veyances,  the  light  private  buggies,  the  village 
wagons  loaded  with  city  cousins,  and  the  proud 
Concord  stages  with  bright  colors  and  six-in- 
hand.  Oh,  siich  horses !  And  such  exhilarant 
rides  upon  the  seats  next  and  back  of  the 
driver. 

There  was  no  lack  of  hands  of  New  York 
acquaintances,  idle  young  fellows  in  white  and 
blue  flannel,  and  brown  faces,  who  strolled  up 
to   Mark  with : 

"How   are  you,   Broon?" 

"Ah,  Broon,  weVe  heard  about  your  den  up 
here." 

"  Den  ?  A  castle,  a  palace,  they  say  in  town. 
Odd  chap,   that  father  of  yours." 


THE   WAR  MEETING. 


123 


"Mark,  old  boy,  you  have  n't  cut  the  city  for- 
ever,   and   become   a  farmer,   eh  ? " 

"Here,  give  me  a  shake,  too.  I  say,  that 
magnificent  creature  who  just  went  into  the 
ladies'  room —  Beg  pardon."  For  Broon's  face 
was  very  grave  in  spite  of  himself,  and  the 
last  young  speaker  made  it  graver.  "  Married, 
Mark?  Excuse  me.  But  I  really  didn't  know 
it." 

All  this,  while  the  horses  disappeared  round 
the  corner,  and  Mark,  awaiting  Laura's  re-ap- 
pearance, drifted  into  the  crowd  of  city  men. 
They  represented  every  section  of  the  country, 
and  all  had  nothing  to  do  but  smoke,  and  talk, 
and  watch  the  ever-varying  beauties  in  color 
and  shade  upon  the  solemn,  dreamy  mountains 
round.  They  waited  for  dinner  and  the  ladies. 
They  scanned  every  new  comer.  Many,  elderly 
gentlemen,  who  were  the  majority  in  fact,  to 
the  disgust  of  a  hotelful  of  young  ladies,  dis- 
cussed and  discussed  and  hobnobbed  with  old 
friends,  and  lighted  a  fresh  cigar,  unheeding  the 
doctor.  Not  a  few  were  business  associates  with 
old  Capt.  Broon;  and  the  son  of  the  old  cap- 
tain was  at  once  kindly  and  courteously  re- 
ceived. 

But  this  July  day  had    its    cloud,   to    a    closer 


124 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


observer.  The  newspapers  had  been  at  the 
Crawford  these  two  hours.  The  newspapers  —  how 
the  ladies  began  to  fear  them,  and  almost  hate 
them,  —  they  brought  a  cloud  every  day.  They 
flew  up  and  down  these  fair  picturesque  defiles, 
and  shut  out  the  brilliant,  clear  sunlight  for  an 
hour  or  two.  The  coming  of  the  newspaper- 
train  was  like  the  rolling  up  of  a  thunder- 
head,   a   cloud   with   sudden   rain. 

And"  there  was  to  be  a  rain,  dear  girls  and 
matrons,  rain  of-  tears  all  over  our  happy  land; 
and  your  gay  feathers  were  to  droop,  oh,  so 
sadly,  and  so  long.  The  grass  was  to  be  too 
damp  to  walk  upon,  even  if  your  lover  was 
near;  and  the  dews  were  to  be  darker  than 
those  of  these  mountains,  on  moon-lit  evenings. 
The  newspaper  cloud  even  now  thundered;  at  a 
far  distance   you   could   hear  it   every  forenoon. 

It  was  the  thunder  of  civil  war.  Full  three 
months  had  the  storm  been  murmuring;  but 
these  rich  and  idle,  these  young  and  happy, 
these  old  and  shop-worn,  had  declined  to  listen. 
The  early  summer  of  '6i  saw  Saratoga  and  New- 
port, the  mountains  and  the  doll's  cottages  that 
brocade  the  Atlantic  sands  as  brilliant  as  ever. 
But  the  farmers*  wives  and  daughters  about 
Franconia    knew     and     wept,    and     had     already 


THE   WAR   MEETING. 


125 


parted  with  sons  and  lovers.  Not  so  these 
wives  and  daughters  dressing  for  dinner  upstairs. 
The  hostler  who  led  Mark's  colts  to  the  stable 
knows  the  history  of  every  day,  from  the  i6th 
of  April  and  the  shot  at  Sumter  until  yester- 
day ;  for  yesterday  he  saw  his  brother  enlist,  and 
to-day  he  has  secretly  resolved  he  will  do  the 
same. 

This  was  the  17th  of  July.  The  papers  proph- 
esied it  yesterday.  To-day  they  say  the  great 
advance  is  begun.  On  to  Richmond!  Soon  the 
telegraph  will  be  burning  with  the  earlier  tid- 
ings  of  Bull   Run. 

In  an  idle  sort  of  way,  busy  with  his  love 
wounds,  Mark  Broon  is  laying  off  his  duster, 
being  whisked  by  the  puffing  negro,  shaking 
hands,  and  thinking  of  the  girl.  He  is  also 
growing  desperate.  With  no  love  to  Hve  for,  then 
in  what  heroic  way  shall  he  die.?  He  wishes  he 
had  lived   in   the  time   of  the   Crusades. 

Mark  cannot  help  hearing  the  stentorian  tones 
of  an  old  merchant  who  is  reading  aloud  "what 
the  Tribune  says. "  Everybody  listened.  The 
man  who  had  just  finished  reading  *'what  the 
Herald  says,"  was  listening  as  eagerly  as  any. 
The  man  who  held  a  Times  rocked  to  and  fro 
upon    the    back    legs    of    his    chair    and    jammed 


126  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

his  heel  into  the  slats  of  the  veranda-railing, 
impatient  to  begin  in  turn.  Waiters  and  cooks, 
grooms,  and  farmers  who  had  just  driven  in  with 
"stuff"  to  sell,  put  their  ears  to  the  lattice- 
work ;  and  in  vain  did  Nicholas  order  them 
"  away  from  the  front  of  the  house.  "  There  are 
sterner  orders  abroad,  sirs.  "Classes"  are  to 
mingle  again  in  America.  Blood  is  to  mix  before 
you  are  five  years  older,  the  blood  of  that  ne- 
gro waiter  and  the  young  millionaire  to  whom 
he  hands  champagne  by  the  filler  there ;  mix  in 
a  pool  at  Petersburg.  But  then  no  one  dreams 
of  that  yet,  as  the  Tribune  reader  finishes  his 
last   dispatch. 

"  May  God  help  us ! "  cried  the  old  gentle- 
man, **  I  wish  I  was  a  young  man ! "  He  sprang 
to  his  feet,  tossed  the  crumpled  Tribune  into  a 
score  of  snatching  hands  down  on  the  drive  and, 
lifting  his  spectacles  high  up  in  his  right  hand, 
began  to  harangue : 

"You  young  fellows,  here,  why,  I  should 
think  it  would  make  your  blood  boil  to  read  of 
this  glorious  opportunity  to  go  fight  for  your 
country." 

Mark  Broon  looked  straight  into  the  speaker's 
eyes,  and  his  handsome  young  face  flushed  in 
an  instant  through   all  his   weather  color.     In  his 


THE   WAR  MEETING. 


127 


heart,  for  a  moment,  it  was  as  when  the  wind 
suddenly  changes  after  days  of  sultriness.  It 
was  one  of  those  eager  instants  of  time,  when 
you  are  upon  the  eve  of  solving  many  problems. 
The  young  fellow's  lips  parted,  but  for  breath 
and  not  speech.  He  was  alive  now ;  the  leth- 
argy of  a  life-time  was  gone.  He  remembers  to 
this '  day  that  shock  of  a  sentence  from  an  old 
man's  lips.  It  was  pain,  shame,  hope,  pique  of 
love,  patriotism,  dreams  of  heroic  deaths,  some- 
thing to  say  to  father,  more  to  say  to  Laura,  a 
way  out,  an  object  in  life,  a  whirl,  a  way  to 
forget  her  if  he  must,  and  a  way  to  make  her 
weep  for  him ! 

It  came  so  suddenly.  But  then  every  boy  or 
youth  has  it  sooner  or  later,  a  galvanic  shock  that 
wakes  every  sensibility  from  head  to  foot.  His 
character  is  being  born  then.  He  cannot  tell 
himself  what  will  survive  this  throe.  Strange 
that  he  had  not  thought  of  his  country  before. 
But  then  a  woman  had  bewitched  him ;  and  he 
had  been  a  fool  in  such  stern  times,  chasing 
after  this  girl.  To  get  a  wife.  What  are  wives  ? 
To  be  happy.  What  is  happiness }  A  mission  ? 
And  here  was  a  mission  going  a-begging.  Let 
her  go  marry  this  fortune  hunter.  Why,  there 
he  is  now,  by  his  father's  side,  who  is  listening 
to  this  "war  speech"   with   his   usual   sneer. 


128  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

Over  the  ends  of  his  bended  thumbs  Dr. 
Smiles  caught  the  old  merchant's  eye  as  the 
latter  paused  to  take  breath.  It  was  strange 
how  the  doctor  could  enforce  himself.  The 
white-haired  orator  swallowed  the  beginning  of 
his  next  sentence,  and  stopped,  regarding  Smiles. 
Quick  as  a  flash  Smiles  got  in  his  word  and 
had  the  entire  audience. 

"  But  there  is  another   side,   my  friend ! " 

"Hear  him,   my  countrymen  — " 

"Yes,  hear  me,*'  Smiles  went  on,  calm,  cold 
and  honey-toned.  "What  are  you  going  to  gain 
by  war?  This  gigantic  North  will  slay  a  few 
thousand  of  those  poor  Southern  gentlemen 
and—" 

"Who   are  you.?   A   Southerner?" 

With  a  smerk,  "No  sir.  By  five  generations 
a  New  Yorker.  I  know  the  South,  however. 
There  is  no  endurance  there;  they  are  pas- 
sionate gentlemen  of  culture.  We  can  easily 
crush  them.  I  say  I  have  as  profound  a  con- 
tempt for  their  army  as  you  have.  But  what's 
the  use  in  killing  off  the  people  from  any  state 
for  the  mere  fiction  of  keeping  the  soil  in  a 
nominal   union  ? " 

"Who  are  you?"  roared  the  merchant.  "My 
name  is   Stone,  sir.     I  trust  I  am   well  known  in 


THE   WAR  MEETING, 


129 


the  South,  But  you  ?  Why,  you  are  neither  one 
thing  nor  another.  I  was  born  in  Charleston, 
S.  C,  though  loyal  to  my  country  these  five 
and  thirty  years.  I've  lived  in  New  York.  I 
know  these  misguided  Southrons.  They  will 
fight  like  heroes ;  and  before  we  whip  those 
brave  traitors,  that  son  of  yours  —  for  I  guess 
he  is  by  the  resemblance  —  will  be  drafted  if 
he   don't   volunteer  ! " 

Everybody  turned  eyes  on  the  son,  who  grew 
ashen  as  he  started  to  spring  to  his  feet.  But 
the  doctor's  toe  touched  the  son's  toe,  which 
signal  nobody  could  see  among  the  thick  chairs. 
Erastus  sunk  back  as  his  father  turned  his  black 
eyes   affectedly  up,   and  exclaimed : 

"God  forbid  that  a  child  of  mine  should  be 
a  shedder  of  blood !  Mine,  sir,  is  the  blessed 
healing  art.  As  to  who  I  am,  I  trust  there  are 
several  of  these  fair  ladies  who  can  speak  for 
me. 

The  thumbs  seemed  to  roll  poor  Stone,  the 
patriot   and   honest   man,  into  fine  powder. 

At  that  word,  everybody  became  conscious,  for 
the  first  time  in  this  hot  flash,  that  the  ladies 
had  flocked  out  of  the  low  parlor  windows  and 
hall-ways  to  make  up  a  brilliant  and  anxious 
audience.     They  stole  arms  through  arms  of  excited 


I30 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


husbands  and  fathers.  They,  silent  and  affrighted, 
caught  at  the  hands  of  brothers  and  sons. 
Some  whispered  dissuasions  and  pleaded  in  low, 
sweet  tones  with  the  men  they  loved  "not  to 
talk  horrid  politics."  Some,  with  impressive 
palor,  and  some  with  pretty  blushes  of  real  ter- 
ror, put  faces  to  male  shoulders,  having  tugged 
in  vain  at  arms  and  hands  to  lead  the  lords 
away. 

And  in  that  perfume  and  flutter,  that  rustle 
of  lawns  and  silks,  that  bouquet  of  fair  young 
forms  and  matronly  dignities;  in  that  crush,  not 
of  the  ball-room,  in  that  throng  where  not  a 
laugh  was  heard,  it  was  quite  high  time  that  some 
restraint  should  come,  for  half  the  men  were 
on   their  feet  with   rage   beyond   control. 

A  telegram   did  it.     It  ran: 

"  We  are  being  whipped  at  Bull  Run.  ** 

It  was  the  brush  of  Thursday,  reader.  Sun- 
day, the  2 1  St  of  July,  a  day  never  to  be  for 
gotten,  was  not  yet. 

"  I   told  you   SO, "  sneered   Smiles. 

*•  Not  so,  sir !  You  prophesied  the  very  con- 
trary !  *' 

It  was  Mark  Broon.  Poor  boy,  he  had  never 
faced  this  man  before.  He  had  felt,  for  some 
moments,    his    soul    glaring    at     the   pair    without 


THE    WAR  MEETING.  131 


using  his  eyes,  as  sometimes  the  soul  can  see 
with  the  face  not  turned,  ever  since  Mr.  Stone's 
first  rebuff.  He  knew  why  the  doctor  had  talked 
on  his  chosen  tack  almost  as  well  as  if  he  had 
actually  overheard  the  smooth  whisper,  **  There's 
your  rival.  Rat ;  I'll  talk  to  ^gg  him  to  the  en- 
listing point." 

The  telegram  and  the  taunt  had  proved  quite 
too  much.  Mark  instantly  broke  his  resolution 
and  turned  to  look  straight  at  the  two.  What 
his  lips  said  was  like  what  flax  says  when  the 
flame  licks   it.     Flash ! 

"  Do  you   call   my  father  a  liar }  ** 

Flash   second  !    from   Erastus,  chair-armed. 

"  I  acknowledge  no  acquaintance  with  you  nor 
your  father,"  replied  Broon.  ''But  since  I  have 
spoken,  I  am  willing  to  confess  openly  that  I've 
been  an  idle  fool !  I  love  my  country.  I  respect 
and  hate  traitors  and  will  go  fight  them.  And  I 
despise  the   man   who  is   on   neither  side!" 

"  Look   at   a  traitor  !  " 

**And   another!" 

"And  another!" 

It   was  in  chorus   from   a    handful   of  Kentucky 
gentlemen,   who  instantly   drew  together  and,  with- 
out  perhaps   intending  to  rally  to   him,   about  the 
doctor     still    calmly   seated,     and     about     Erastus 
half  advancing.     Then   one  said : 


132  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"  Perhaps  yoi/11  fight  us   now,  young  fellow !  " 

Crash  !  As  forty  chairs  were  pushed  back  and 
as  many  men  got  on  feet.  Everybody  was  stand- 
ing now.  One  united  cry  in  soprano,  discordant 
and  pitiful,  as  women  fluttered,  but,  for  the  most 
part,  did  not  fly.  Then  "good  society'*  in  an- 
archy as  complete,  as  instant,  as  in  a  mining 
camp.  Human  nature  will  always  quickly  lapse 
to  barbarism  at   sufficient  provocation. 

"Papa!"  "Charley!"  "Tom!"  "Oh,  my 
husband!"     "My  boy!"     "My  child!" 

A  vortex  of  white  arms  flashing  and  coiling 
out  of  laces  and  gauzes  and  about  men's  necks ; 
lips  pouting,  paling  ^and  pleading.  Such  as  felt 
that  they  must  faint,  swooped  into  the  parlors  to 
convenient  sofas.  Female  gray  heads  took  shel- 
ter also,  and  sat  sobbing  convulsively  behind 
their  handkerchiefs,  while  others,  mothers  of 
young  children,  clucked  them  together  and  out 
of  harm's   way,   ruffled  charmingly. 

"Oh,  this  dreadful  war!  And  I  have  one  son 
here  and  another  in  the  South ! "  The  old  dame's 
tears  streamed  down  upon  her  diamond  -  loaded 
hands.  She  seemed  to  be  fairly  washing  her 
hands  in  the  tears,  rocking  herself  to  and  fro. 

"And  I  have  brothers  there.  Oh,  how  my 
husband  rails  at  them  of  late." 


THE   WAR  MEETING,  I33 

The  pretty  speaker's  cheeks  were  bloodless  as 
she  sat  clinging  to  her  children,  and  pricking 
ears  to  hear  what  next   from  the  veranda. 

But  who  can  delineate  it,  that  agony  of  horror, 
the  war  among  brethren  ?  And  we  had  grown 
up  a  generation  to  whom  wars  were  only  in 
histories,  or  in  newspaper  dispatches  from  be 
yond  seas,  which  our  women  never  so  much  as 
glanced  at.  We  could  not  believe  it,  least  of  all 
these  women  of  velvet  ease. 

When  Laura  Lane  came  tripping  down  the 
broad  stair,  beautiful  in  her  own  grief,  and 
thinking  only  of  it,  this  is  what  she  saw  from 
the  threshold,   where   she  paused  transfixed. 

The  man  she  hated,  his  misshapen  features 
blazing;  the  man  she  loved,  his  fine  face  kin 
died  as  she  had  seen  it  before,  but  now  with 
an  added  angry  glow.  Broon  was  advanced  into 
the  center  of  the  throng.  They  seemed  to  make 
way  for  him  like  a  leader,  and  to  look  towards 
him  for  commands.  Dr.  Smiles  was  very  grave, 
for  a  change,  and  had  stepped  back,  half  hid 
among  ladies,  who  were  at  once  both  shielding 
him  and  themselves  by  him.  Women  will  so 
contradict  themselves  in  danger.  They  were  pa- 
tients  of  his. 

Laura  thought   she  had  never  seen  Mark  Broon 


134 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


appear  so  manly.  She  thought,  "Grand!"  But 
in   an   instant   suppressed   it   with : 

"  Foolish  boy !  Oh,  shame !  A  public,  vulgar 
collision   about   poor  me!" 

Of  course  she  reasoned  so.  She  supposed 
the  rivals  had  never  met  face  to  face  before. 
As  for  the  war,  why,  this  child  had  been  heart- 
full  of  her  own  civil  war,  mother  against  lover. 
It  was  so  with  half  the  country;  we  were  eat- 
ing and  drinking,  marrying  and  giving  in  mar- 
riage. 

Her  disgrace,  the  humiliation  of  old  John 
Lane's  family,  was  now  complete.  He  not  dead 
three  years,  and  yet  his  wife  the  willing  victim 
of  an  adventurer,  his  fortune  squandered,  his 
daughter  the  bone  of  contention  in  a  low 
scrimmage  in  a  fashionable  hotel,  before  some 
of  the  best  of  their  old  neighbors  and  the 
mates  of  many  a  happier  day;  for  she  caught 
sight  of  several  school-mates  in  the  throng.  It 
was  too  much.  She  would  have  fled  anywhere 
to  escape,  but  at  that  moment  she  heard  Mark's 
clear,  calm  reply  to  the  challenge  of  the  Ken- 
tucky  gentleman. 

"Sirs,  war  is  a  grievous  thing  at  best,  and 
would  be  doubly  grievous  in  this  presence.  I 
suppose    none    of    us    are    accustomed    to    street 


THE    WAR  MEETING,  135 

brawls.  But  if  you  are  down  in  Virginia  next 
week  we  may  possibly  meet  there.  For,  if  God 
spare  me,  I'll  match  bold  language  with  deeds. 
The  loyal  North  will  resort  to  the  means  that 
the  South  has  suggested.  If  the  whole  country 
must  be  laid  waste  and  made  a  desert  to  save 
this   Union,   so   it   shall  be.** 

Cheer  on  cheer  kindled  the  young  fellow.  He 
began  to  be  without  pain  at  the  heart.  He  re- 
members that  he  was  surprised  to  notice  how 
almost  happy  he  was.  A  natural  speaker,  a 
splendid  voice,  the  boy*spirit  yet  in  the  man's 
body,    he   went    on : 

"I  warn  Southern  gentlemen,  that  if  this  war 
continues,  they  will  see  the  day  when  this  free 
nation  sets  free  every  slave, — the  thing  my  good 
old  father  has  been  praying  for  ever  since  I 
can  remember.  And  I  would  like  to  ask  that 
doctor,  back  among  the  ladies,  if  that  isn't  worth 
the  struggle.!*" 

Erastus  was  so  excited  as  to  be  utterly  irrel- 
evant  in   picking  his   quarrel. 

"You  seem  to  taunt  my  father  with  being  a 
member  of  an  abolitionist  society.  Father  is  in 
sympathy  with  all  advanced  thinkers,  but  he 
would  not  not   fight   for  a   nigger." 

"I  did  not  know  nor  refer  to  what  you  appear 


136  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

to  half  confess,"  quickly  responded  Mark.  "But 
as  near  as  I  can  learn,  your  father  don't  fight 
for  anything  when  he  can  win  by  indirection. 
Where  he  can  make  capital  by  posturing  as  an 
abolitionist,  no  doubt  he  has — " 
"Scoundrel!  Take  that  back,  or — " 
But  the  tiger  spring  was  very  foolish.  Mark 
Broon  was  much  the  finer  man.  His  gigantic 
strength  was  like  a  vice- clasp  on  Erastus'  fore- 
arm. His  own  lifted  right  arm  was  ready  for 
a  crushing  blow ;  when,  like  a  sunburst,  Laura 
Lane  stood  between  them,  and  reached  up  her 
cold  hand  to  his  wrist.  That  was  as  far  as  she 
could  reach,  and  further  than  most  women,  for 
she  was   of  queenly  stature. 

She  spoke  not  a  word.  But  the  soft  hand 
was  so  chill,  and  the  fingers  seemed  to  caress 
as  they  entwined.  Her  front  was  commanding. 
She  regarded  him  only,  and  deigned  not  a  glance 
on  the  other  man.  She  was  so  majestic,  so 
noble,  and  yet  the  sweet  face  so  full  of  trou- 
ble, that  the  throng,  viewing  her,  breathed  and 
breathed  again.  The  interval  of  two  breaths 
without  a  word  seemed  like  an  hour  just  then. 
The  outskirts  craned  their  necks.  The  next 
breath  would  have  roared  a  cheer  for  this  peerless 
peace-maker.     It  was   in  every  heart  already 


THE  WAR  MEETING. 


m 


But  just  then  Mark  Broon  dropped  his  arm 
and  bent  and  kissed  her!  He  would  have  been 
more  than  human  had  he  not.  He  had  this  in 
his  thought :  "  The  first  shall  be  the  last ! "  and 
this   in   his  .  voice : 

"Forgive  me  this,  good  angel.  I  sincerely 
thank  you.  You  have  saved  me  from  the  mem- 
ory of  doing  him    harm.     Let   him  go !  *' 

And  with  that  he  whirled  young  Smiles  from 
the  grip  of  his  left  hand  like  a  log,  back  into 
the   spasmodic   clutches   of  his   supporters. 

"  You  shall  pay  for  this ! "  shrieked  the  strug 
gling  Erastus,  over  the  shoulders  of  half  a 
dozen  gentlemen,  who  mingled  laughter  with  in- 
dignation  as   they   restrained   him. 

Mark  looked  at  him  with  contempt,  cooling 
rapidly  now,  and  answered  the  multitude  instead 
of  young   Smiles. 

"I  beg  humble  pardon  of  this  company.  I 
have  no  feud  to  pursue  with  this  fellow.  God 
forbid  that   I   ever  meet   him   again." 

Then,  with  well-bred  self-control,  though  she 
could  feel  him  yet  shaking  with  the  subsidence 
of  his  fervor,  he  drew  Laura's  arm  through  his, 
with  the  remark: 

"If  we  can  do  it,  shall  we  not  make  our  way 
to  the  dining-room?" 


138  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

To  dine?  No  one  seemed  to  have  thought  of 
that.  But  the  word  began  to  spread  among  the 
men,  who  can  generally  manage  to  eat,  come 
what  will.  The  mention  of  dining  began  to  act 
like  oil  on  the  ugly  sea.  In  a  moment  more 
the  ladies  would  have  been  grouped  into  threes 
and  fours  of  burning  faces  and  chattering 
tongues,  and  the  men  would  have  been  laying 
their  hats  in  the  rack  by  the  dear  good  dining- 
room   doors. 

But  the  telegraph  again  began  to  bum.  Some 
one  came  from  the  office  with  tidings.  At  once 
a  young  fellow  was  reading  it,  standing  on  a 
chair.  It  was  the  miserable  news  of  the  early 
ill  success  about  Manassas.  It  was  "a  mere 
skirmish."  The  next  tick,  "It  was  a  battle." 
It  was, — no  one  seemed  to  know  just  what. 
The  most  contradictory  dispatches  were  received 
and  read  in  the  space  of  the  next  five  minutes. 
In  what  seemed  a  moment,  hall,  veranda,  steps 
were  packed  again  and  more  densely  than  ever. 
A  hostler  stood  close  against  Laura  on  the  left. 
The  kitchen  emptied  itself  into  the  parlors  ad- 
jacent. There  was  no  outcry  now.  The  reader 
on  the  chair  went  over  and  over  every  yellow 
sheet  he  had.  It  was  necessary,  for  the  tele- 
graph had    suddenly  ceased    to    burn.    That    was 


THE   WAR  MEETING,  139 


well,  for  hearts  were  burning  hot  enough  now. 
Do  you  not  remember  it,  reader?  Then  pity 
me,  trying  to  tell  how  women  wept  and  fainted; 
how  knees  trembled  under  age,  and  young  blood 
boiled. 

There  was  no  one  to  wait  on  him,  but  good 
Dr.  Smiles  passed  through  and  into  the  dining- 
room.  He  had  persuaded  two  rich  old  lady  pa- 
tients to  hang  on  his  arms,  poor  shaky  things. 
Erastus,  feather-smoothed  somewhat,  now  followed, 
or  was  trying  to  follow,  through  a  window,  with 
one   of  his   sisters. 

"Come,  gentlemen,  dine  first  and  enlist  after- 
wards," laughed  the  doctor,  as  he  wedged  his 
way    along. 

The  throng  turned  its  eye  on  the  bold  cynic 
in  amazement.  Did  you  ever  feel  the  eye  of 
Humanity  turned  full  on  you .?  You,  heretofore 
insignificant,  private,  suddenly  become  the  ob- 
served, the  public,  the  solitary  among  thousands, 
who  drew  apart  and  had  ^nothing  to  do  with 
you  but  to  look  at  you?  Not  a  human  being 
will  approach  you  except  with  the  eyes  ?  It  is  ter 
rible  to  feel  that  the  whole  of  your  little  world 
has  suddenly  turned  into  an  eye,  and  that  star- 
ing on  you.  It  is  fame  or  infamy,  both  unen- 
durable   alike,     doubtless,     in    their    stare.       But 


140 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


Smiles  was  equal  to  it.  He  was  conscious  of 
power.  He  had  had  no  sensibilities  these  severa. 
years.  He  returned  the  gaze  with  even  a  satis- 
fied  look,   and   repeated: 

"  Dine  first  and  enlist  afterwards,  good 
friends." 

The  word   was   electric.     Enlist! 

With  a  bound  Mark  Broon  mounted  the  stair, 
and   shouted: 

"I  propose  that  we  enlist  first  and  dine  after- 
wards. Come,  boys,  let  us  raise  a  company 
right  here !  Clear  us  that  table  by  the  parlor 
door.  Tom  Stone,  I  believe  you  are  your  fath- 
er's son.  You  have  heard  the  old  gentleman's 
war  speech.  Sit  down  at  that  table  and  take 
our  names.  Put  me  down  first,  if  I  may  venture 
to   claim   so   much   honor." 

"Hold,  gentlemen,"  spoke  a  quiet  voice,  and 
a  matter-of-fact  man  pushed  his  way  into  the 
crowd.  "  I  happen  to  be  a  recruiting  officer, 
regularly  commissioned  by  the  governor  of  this 
state.  Have  been  working  all  the  forenoon 
among  the  farmers  and  such,  round  the  hotel; 
didn't  expect  so  high  game.  Here  are  regular 
papers.  But  this  means  business,  boys.  Now 
then ! " 

And    he    threw  the    sheets  —  Who    can    forget 


THE   WAR  MEETING,  I4I 

those  scrolls  that  ''meant  business?"  —  down  on 
the  marble-top.  He  was  seated  and  his  portable 
ink-bottle  was  slipped  out  of  pocket  in  a  mo- 
ment. He  held  up  the  pen  for  "Whose  hand 
first?" 

Ah,  poor  Laura!  Has  it  come  to  this?  You 
were  standing  just  below  Mark,  your  breast 
heaving,  your  matchless  face,  your  glorious  eyes 
upturned  in  a  sort  of  wondering  worship,  when 
Mark   spoke   again: 

"All   right,   sir.     Put   me   down." 
You   did    not    sob,    Laura    Lane,    as    many   of 
the  women   about  you  began   to  do.     You  seemed 
to     turn     to     stone.       But     oh,     such     shape     of 
stone ! 

"That  I  cannot  do,  young  man,"  said  the  of- 
ficer to  Mark.  "You  must  come  and  take  the 
pen.  Every  man  above  one  and  twenty  can  sign. 
Here  !  " 

The  outstretched  pen  was  like  a  magician's 
wand.  The  throng  parted  under  it.  Mark  ad- 
vanced soberly  through  the  opened  way,  and 
took  the   pen   and   signed. 

Yet  Vanity  Fair  did  not  cheer.  It  was  in 
stupor.  This  "meaning  business"  had  benumbed 
it.  The  tension,  however,  was  awful.  This  si- 
lence    could    not    last.     My   God,     what    war    of 


142 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


thoughts,  invasions,  pillage  and  burning  of  youth- 
ful hopes  and  charges  of  desperate  resolves,  in 
those  silent  moments!  And  as  yet  there  was 
not  another  hand  to  take  the  pen  which  Mark 
held  out. 

"Just  ask  the  musicians,'*  proposed  the  home- 
spun recruiting  officer,  "to  give  us  *Hail  Colum- 
bia' or  *  America.*  " 

The  foreign  fellows  shook  themselves,  and  be- 
gan the  latter  dear  old  melody  with  horn  and 
fiddle.  There  were  not  many  pieces,  but  at  the 
beginning  of  the  second  line  you  would  not 
have  known  that  there  were  any.  A  hundred 
voices,  two  hundred,  three  hundred,  within  doors, 
without  upon  the  lawns  and  gravel,  voices  of 
men,  women,  children  sung.  They  roared  it;  they 
piped  it.  Look  at  that  old  farmer  in  his  blue 
frock,  he  with  the  hay-fork  over  his  shoulder, 
who  would  have  thought  he  could  sing.?  They 
sung  it  with  a  strange  solemnity.  Not  a  face 
smiled.  They  sung  it  as  if  the  words  were 
weapons.  The  men  marked  time  with  their  feet; 
it  answered  for  the  drum-beat.  But  oh,  how  it 
struck  the  women's  hearts !  The  building  seemed 
a  living,  throbbing  thing.  The  very  flag,  that 
lazily  twined  about  the  staff  up  in  the  July  heat 
seemed    to  catch    its    meaning,   and    shook    itself 


THE   WAR  MEETING,  I43 

out  on  the  sky.  Some  one  from  without  caught 
sight  of  the  flag.  Of  course,  everybody  was 
thinking   of  it   and   wanting    to   see   it. 

"See!  She  streams  to  the  North,  as  if  going 
South!" 

Then  cheer  on  cheer  went  up.  Yet  the 
music  rolled  on.  Words,  or  no  words,  men  sung. 
The  women  grew  out  of  their  tearfulness  and 
fluttered  little  handkerchiefs  in  air.  Yet  not  a 
few  of  these  women  were  like  the  dead;  struck 
down,  you  would  have  said,  by  a  breath,  when 
some  one  shouted  the  name  of  their  sons  or 
husbands  or  brothers  who   had  grasped  the  pen. 

For  all  this  while  now  the  pen  was  busy. 
The  line  was  like  the  voters'  line  at  the  ballot 
box.  That  was  right.  The  younger  people  who 
read  this  narrative  cannot  realize  it.  This  de- 
scription seems  to  you  extravagant.  In  fact,  it 
is  written  in  pale  colors.  There  were  hours  in 
'61  when  men  crowded,  pushed,  contended  for 
the  enlisting  pen.  It  was  a  sublime  frenzy,  but 
God  save  us  from  the  need  of  ever  seeing  it 
again. 

Now  dine,  ladies  and  gentlemen.  But  your 
cook  is  a  soldier  with  your  son.  The  house  is 
unmanned.  Well,  well,  that  will  not  matter,  foi 
to-morrow  many  of  the  guests   will   be  gone  into 


144 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


camp,  up  here  in  the  country  village  of  Bethle- 
hem, and  Mark  Broon  will  be  captain  of  the 
new  company,  "meaning  business."  Dine,  now; 
you  had  better;  for  it  will  be  the  last  time  to 
some  of  you  that  the  whole  family  sit  at  the 
same  table.  What  ?  You  will  not  dine .?  You 
have  no  stomach  for  green  things }  You  should 
have  gone  in  with  the  dear  doctor  and  his  son, 
who  have  already  finished  a  hearty  dinner  so 
good-naturedly.  Indeed,  the  noble  man  is  in  the 
best  of  humor;  even  half  proposes  congratulating 
"Captain  Broon,"  but  upon  reflection  thinks  bet- 
ter of  it,  and  turns  rather  to  congratulate  his 
own    son. 

The  doctor  finds  no  especial  comfort  in  the 
benignant  smiles  he  turns  on  his  own  family, 
whose  faces  are  pale  with  the  consciousness  of 
that  coldest  of  all  kinds  of  cold  social  ostra- 
cism ;  nor  in  the  faces  of  such  Southerners  as 
frown  while  the  stiff  lips  nibble.  It  was  a  din- 
ner with  snatches  of  patriotic  song  whistled  and 
caroled  amid  hurrahs  and  laughter,  sobs  and  an- 
gry cries.  Yet  the  doctor  wiped  his  lips  com- 
placently the  while,  and  kept  Erastus  at  his  side. 
Finally   he   remarked : 

"We  have  been  sitting  here  two  hours,  chil- 
dren,"  consulting   his   watch.     "I   think  the  storm 


THE    WAR  MEETING,  I45 

has  swept  by,  and  our  house  is  standing  yet. 
my  boy." 

"Curses!  But  just  look  at  that  pair,"  growled 
Erastus,  with  a  stare  towards  the  wide  front 
hall. 

**0h,  fie,"  was  the  doctor's  response.  "You 
do  not  seem  to  take  into  the  account  my  pa- 
tient,  her   mother." 

There  they  were.  Mark  was  helping  Laura 
into  his  buggy  at  the  door.  In  a  sort  of  dream 
the  young  hero  of  much  congratulation  and  fre- 
quent applause  had  managed  to  get  through  the 
lionizing  of  the  last  hour.  He  was  sure  of 
nothing  but  that  Laura  Lane  had  been  clinging 
to  his  arm  now  for  some  time,  and  pleading  to 
be  taken  up  to  Eaglecroft.  He  had  an  idea  that 
forty  different  men  had  offered  to  telegraph-  to 
his  father;  that  thirty  or  forty  men  had  gone 
to  order  his  colts,  and  brought  them  round,  and 
now  were  all  trying  to  help  him  and  Laura  into 
the  vehicle;  and  that  he  had  explained  that  he 
must  drive  up  for  the  night,  but  would  surely 
be  on  hand  when  the  company  was  organized  in 
the  morning.  He  was  certain  that  for  a  long 
time  he  protested  that  he  would  not  be  captain, 
and   finally   gave   over   protests   helplessly. 

He   was    glad   when    the    parting    cheers    grew 


146  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

fainter;  when  the  clouds  of  red  dust  shut  them. 
departing,  out  of  view;  and  he  could  turn  and 
look  on  this,  girl  at  his  side. 


THE  SOLDIER'S  WEDDING, 


147 


VII. 

THE   SOLDIER'S  WEDDING. 

ii^KT'OV  have  eaten  nothing  since  morning, 
Laura,"  Mark  began.  "  1  know  of  a 
farm-house,  if  these  horses" — feathering  the  whip 
over  their  swelHng  flanks — "will  ever  climb  this 
hill  and  bring  us  there,  where  we  can  stop  for 
a   glass    of    fresh    milk." 

But  Laura   only   clung   to   him. 

"Look,    there   it   is,   with   its   red   gable !^* 

But    Laura  made   no   reply. 

"And  the  cows  are  just  coming  home,"  he 
resumed.  "I'll  call  for  a  glass.  Meanwhile  I'll 
make  a  soldier  of  the  cow-boy  for  my  com- 
pany." 

"But   I    am   not   hungry,   Mark." 

Red  and  white  flesh  and  blood,  with  downcast 
eyes,    toying   with  the   fringe   of  the   robe. 

"It  is  strange,"  with  a  bright  look  up  and 
full  at  him,  "how  different  you  men  are  from 
us  women.  You  are  hungry!  And  yet  your 
very   soul   must   be   full   of  your  great   errand." 


148  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

Then   after  a   shy  pause: 

"And  still  you  seem  to  have  been  giving 
thought  to  poor  me." 

"Because  I  thought  you  ought  to  eat  enough 
to  live?  Say  rather  a  thousand  higher  thoughts 
of  you  than  that,  Laura  Lane,"  he  exclaimed, 
with  a  laugh  almost  cheery,  and  catching  at  the 
overture. 

In  the  enthusiasm  that  now  swayed  him  all 
conventionalities  seemed  of  small  account.  Yet 
it  is  not  probable  that  he  would  have  ven- 
tured to  resume  the  serious  subject  of  their 
morning  ride  had  she  not  thus  frankly  encour- 
aged him;  for  it  was  not  six  hours  since,  along 
this  very  road,  he  had  pledged  her  his  honor 
never  to  return  to  the  tender  theme  again, 
to  trouble  her. 

Pages  of  attempted  description,  however,  could 
not  present  so  graphic  a  picture  of  those  exact- 
ing times  as  appears  in  the  simple  fact  that,  in 
the  next  moment,  Mark  Broon  seized  Laura 
Lane's   hand,   and  exclaimed : 

"After  what  has  transpired  to-day,  Laura,  and 
here,  on  the  eve  of  what  is  to  transpire,  it  may 
be  almost  to-morrow,  what  is  there  left  to  you 
and   me   but   be  wed?" 

She  started;    but  she  did   not  offer    to  release 


THE  SOLDIER'S  WEDDING.  149 

her  hand.  The  sublime  crisis  in  the  life  of  a 
great  nation  had  wrought  its  ripening  effect 
upon  her  girlish  mind  as  upon  his.  The  spoiled 
child  of  the  morning  was  a  woman  at  evening. 
How  startling  it  often  was  in  those  awful  days 
to  mark  the  sudden  maturing  of  youth;  the  lad 
of  fifteen  years  took  up  the  weapons  of  a  man, 
and  with  difficulty  could  he  be  dissuaded;  the 
mere  child  wore  the  countenance  of  maturity, 
fearing  and  hoping,  weeping  and  praying  at  her 
mother's  side,  as  her  sire  or  brothers  spoke  of 
"the  duty  of  the  hour."  As  a  sunny  week  in 
January  has  been  known  to  swell  the  buds  al- 
most like  June,  so  did  youth  ripen  before  its 
time;  so  were  courtships  shortened,  and  decisions 
of  the  heart,  which  usually  need  years,  were 
taken  in  a  day.  And  yet  I,  who  have  lived  to 
see  the  generation  born  of .  such  marriages,  have 
failed  to  note  any  less  happiness  in  them,  or  in 
the  homes    they   have  blessed. 

"To  be  married,    I   say,    Laura." 

She  did  not  yet  reply.  Scratch  of  hoofs 
climbing  the  pebbly  hill;  song  of  birds  in  the 
cool  of  evening  all  about  them,  and  caw  of 
winding  flocks  of  crows,  high  up  against  the 
tender-tinted  sky;  the  light  of  that  great  burn- 
ing sun,  low  down  and  red  as  blood,  cast  over 
them  and  all  things. 


150  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

"You  do  not  answer  me,  "  he  said,  reverently 
raising  her  hand   to   his.  lips. 

"At    once,    Mark?" 

This  she  said,  with  a  demure  glance  aside,  to- 
wards him,  but  hardly  up  into  his  impassioned 
face. 

"Yes,  at  once.  That  is,  within  the  week, 
Laura." 

"  It  is  so  short  a  time,  "  she  resumed,  yet  un- 
mistakably yielding,  moment  by  moment,  but  with 
little  motions  of  alarm  as  if  shrinking  back  from 
her   own   new-found   peace   and   happiness. 

"It  —  it  is  so  very  short  a  time,"  repeating  it. 

"  It  is   so   grand   a  time  ;   a  time   of  war." 

"What   will   the   world   say.?" 

"  Who  dare  wish  ill  to  the  soldier's  wife  ? 
Besides,  Laura,  I  cannot  tell  how  noble,  how 
grand,  how  lovely  you  have  come  to  be  in  my 
eyes  from  this  day's  revelation  of  you.  I  can- 
not live  without  you.  I  can  live  through  every- 
thing for  you.  I  will  not  leave  you  undefended 
amid  such  toils   as    I   see  laid   for  you." 

"But   mother.?" 

"  You  •  can   defend   her   better   as   my   wife." 

"  But  we  can  have  no  wedding,"  and  she 
laughed  and  looked  down  charmingly,  apologizing 
for   this,   a  woman's   reason. 


THE  SOLDIER'S   WEDDING. 


151 


"Which  shows,  my  dear  girl,  that  you  }ield 
to  me.  Thank  God  !  It  shall  be  a  soldier's  wed- 
ding at  least ;  and  that's  going  to  be  the  fash- 
ionable kind,  this  season,  Laura  Lane.  Depend 
on  that!" 

Then  that  celestial  rapture  was  sent  to  them 
which  is  meant  by  Heaven  for  most  of  us,  if 
we  will  receive  it.  They  were  for  the  time  the 
two  only  earthly  beings.  They  demanded  of  the 
universe,  "  Who  objects  }  "  And  the  universe  held 
its  peace.  It  was  well  for  the  universe ;  for  the 
man  never  before  felt  so  strong.  He  could  defy 
the  world.  He  could  defy  death.  And  then, 
after  a  little,  the  woman  looked  pleadingly  into 
his  face  and   said : 

"But  you  surely  will  live  to  come  back  again, 
dear   Mark?" 

"  I   will !  "  he  answered. 

As  if  the  power  of  life  and  death  was  all  his 
own.  Indeed,  he  felt  a  religious  solemnity  in 
the  reply.  God  would  speed  the  right ;  and  Mark 
Broon  had  never  felt  himself  so  near  right  in 
his  life  as  in  the  two  great  steps  he  had  taken 
this  day.  He  was  a  new  man,  with  new  aims, 
wife  and  country. 

When  had  he  ever  lived  such  a  day.?  It 
seemed  years   since  the  morning.     In  the  silence 


152  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

that  is  more  vocal  than  speech  he  found  him- 
self  studying  her  glove  which  lay  in  her  lap 
since  she  had  removed  it  to  put  on  the  ring. 
But  who  can  analyze  the  nameless  charm  that 
emanates  from  these  small  tokens  ?  Who  can 
write  how  nature  grows  sentient  and  sympathiz. 
ing ;  that  song  of  evening  bird,  the  evening 
clouds  that  begin  to  wear  faces  of  benediction, 
the  highway  maples  that  whisper,  "  It  is  well ; " 
and  the  wild  flowers  that  encourage  them,  "  It 
will  all  come  out  right;"  or  who  can  interpret 
what  the  mountain  stream  is  saying  to  her,  as 
it  murmurs   at  the  roadside  ? 

Then  there  came  over  him  a  feeling  of  his 
unworth  ;  that  possibly  he  was  very  selfish,  after 
all,  in  thus  making  sure  of  her.  He  could 
hardly  feel  his  right  to  her.  As  much  right  had 
he  to  the  sunset  splendors !  After  a  while, 
amid  all  the  nameless  small  chat,  which  everybody 
knows  and  nobody  could  write  down,  he  must  say 
this  serious  thing  to  her;  confess  that  he  had 
no  right  to  claim  her ;  she  was  far  too  good 
and  noble  for  him,  etc.  To  all  of  which  he 
got  the  usual  reply  of  good  women,  reassuring 
him  once  for  all.  At  any  rate  to  most  men 
that  courtship  reassurance  is  once  for  all ;  they 
never  harbor  such  doubts  of  their  rights  and 
worth  again. 


THE  SOLDIER'S  WEDDING.  153 

An  indescribable  journey  that,  the  remnant  ol 
that  summer  evening's  winding,  loitering  climb, 
high  up  among  the  clouds  of  leaves,  and  clouds 
of  moon-silvered  mists  to  distant  Eaglecroft.  And 
the  fires  of  this  day's  kindling  are  still  burning 
brightly  all  the  way ;  fires  of  heroism,  fires  of 
love.  With  the  man  at  least  there  are  no  signs  of 
reaction  ;  he  talks  incessantly  of  war  and  country, 
of  his  embryo  company,  of  whom  he  will  make 
lieutenants,  of  the  men  and  utterances  he  had 
heard  and  encountered  that  day,  of  all  the  great 
patriotic  speeches  he  had  declaimed  from  his 
school-days ;  and  generally  aired  his  heroism, 
which,  we  confess,  he  had  proved  this  day  was 
ready  for  deeds,  all  in  her  admiring  eyes  and 
raptured  ears. 

This  display  of  himself  was  the  highest  pos- 
sible compliment  to  her  whom  he  loved  and 
trusted,  whose  admiration  was  the  sweetest  reward 
on  earth  to  him.  He  turned  his  heart  inside 
out  for  her  to  look  upon,  and  his  dreams,  his 
hopes,   his  plans. 

I  hope  she  appreciated  it,  had  the  fine  discern- 
ment to  detect  its  delicate  devotion  to  herself, 
as  I  believe  she  had,  and  I  trust  the  reader 
has. 

For  herself    Laura    Lane  would  not,  could   not 


154  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

take  much  account  of  obstacles  that  surely  were 
before  her ;  as  mountains  in  the  distance  but 
add  the  picturesque  to  the  road  you  are  travel- 
ing. Her  spirits  kept  pace  with  his,  for  the 
present.  At  length,  as  they  drew  near  the  jour- 
ney's end,  that  other  problem,  of  their  religious 
difference,  began  to  reassert  itself  and  demand 
her  attention.  She  ventured  to  speak,  after  a 
while,    her   thoughts,  saying: 

"Mark,  there  is  never  a  sky  so  bright  that  no 
clouds  obtrude.*' 

"What   clouds   obtrude?"   he   asked  stoutly. 

"Well,  Mark,  perhaps  there  are  only  small 
flecks  of  cloud  left.  I  am  sure  that  you  know  — 
that  you  are  are  able  to  approach  the  unseen 
God  more  intimately  than  I.  Yet  it  is  strange 
how  near  that  Great  Protecting  Power  has  be- 
come, in  very  thought,  because  we — since  we 
need   Him  so  much   now." 

He  suffered  her  to  stammer  through  her  new 
confession  of  faith  without  assistance  to  the  end, 
delighted  beyond  words  himself  that  she  had 
been    driven   into   faith   as   a   refuge. 

"  It  is  not  the  first  time,  Laura,  that  a  doubt- 
ing, or,  at  least,  a  mislead  and  blinded  human 
soul  has  fled  to  God  in  a  storm.  I  foretold 
you  it  would  be  so." 


THE  SOLDIER'S   WEDDING,  155 

"These  dreadful  days  at  least  drive  human 
tiearts   together." 

"Yes;  and  they  will  drive  many  hearts  to  the 
protecting  God.  Now,  here  we  are  at  home.  I 
am  sure  your  religious  atmosphere  will  clear,  my 
dear.  Indeed,  I  think  it  has  already.  Come 
now,  daughter  of  Yankee  land,  you  are  no  dis- 
believer. You  are  a  child  of  the  Puritans.  Blood 
will  tell.  You  are  a  daughter  of  the  old  heroes, 
and   I   am   going  to   prove    a    true  son.     Eh  .?" 

There  was  so  much  of  almost  unnatural  excite- 
ment in  the  young  fellow's  mind  that  Laura 
found  herself  borne  along  with  it.  It  was  an 
enthusiasm.     It  was   irresistible. 

"I  —  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  you  about  our 
family  affairs,"    she   managed  to  get   in. 

But  they  were  at  the  horse-block ;  they  were 
alighting.  His  arm  was  about  her  as  he  con- 
ducted her  along  the  veranda.  The  truth  of  her 
affection  for  him  insisted  on  being  allowed  its 
perfect   repose,   for  the   present   at  least. 

"  Leave  all  such  affairs  to  my  shrewd,  my 
honest  and  strong  old  father,"  he  said,  as  they 
slipped  through  the  open  low  window  into  the 
dining-room. 

It  was  a  late  supper  that  these  two  took  in 
the    new    dining-room    of    Eaglecroft ;     and     there 


156  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

were  only  those  two  and  the  servants.  As  they 
finished,  Mark's  eyes  wandered  about  the  hand 
some  apartment   for   a   moment,  when    he   said  : 

"And  you  shall  be  mistress  here  till  the 
master  returns.  By  morning,  Lau^'^,  the  captain, 
my  father,  will  be  here;  and  before  you  wake 
out  of  the  good  sleep  I  pray  for  you,  I'll  have 
the  news  all  broken,  and  he'll  kiss  you  as  his 
daughter  when   you  come   down." 

Poor  girl !  it  was  well  on  into  night  now ; 
and  besides  he  would  not  have  suffered  her  had 
she  begun  to  tell  the  mixed  tale  of  her  entan- 
glement with  the  Smiles  family.  Indeed,  it  came 
to  her  like  a  shock  that  she  had  forgotten  all 
about  it ;  that  she  was  almost  engaged,  or  how 
was  it }  —  with  Erastus.  The  last  mention  of 
the  honest  old  sea  captain's  name  brought  every- 
thing  to   mind. 

Yet  youth  must  have  its  sleep.  Thank  God, 
youth  can  procrastinate.  Dear,  kind  Procrastination, 
though  called  the  thief  of  time  by  envious  Age, 
whose  time  is  short,  thou  art  the  friend  of 
youth.  Thou  layest  on  to-morrow  the  heavy  load 
that  is  killing  to-night,  thou  takest  from  young 
hearts  the  present  grief  and  fretfulness,  giving 
sleep,  yes,  giving  present  sweets.  Art  slow  and 
dull  ?    It  is  false ;  thou,  Procrastination,  art  quick 


THE  SOLDIER'S   WEDDING,  157 

to  snatch,  to  pounce  upon  and  carry  off  a 
present  joy  from  the  very  clutch  of  a  stolid 
sorrow. 

And  so  Laura  Lane  slept,  and  dreamed  bright 
dreams,   on    the  very  eve  of  many  battles. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  the  next  morning, 
there  stood  the  old  captain,  with  his  strong 
face  all  smiles,  one  hand  pulling  his  watch  from 
his  fob,  and  the  other  extended  towards  her. 
She  could  not  disturb  his  look  of  honest  confi- 
dence by  saying,  as  she  had  resolved  on  while 
dressing : 

"Come,  you  two  gentleman,  and  hear  the  con- 
fession of  a  poor  fatherless  girl,  before  we  go 
further." 

Not  she,  for  the  old  man's  great  hand  got 
hers,   and  his  deep  tones  began: 

"Well,  daughter,  it's  hardly  ladies'  watch  on 
deck  yet,  but  I  thought  you  might  be  early. 
We've  much  to  do  the  next  few  hours.  With 
true  love  I  greet  ye,  my  daughter.  I'll  use  that 
word  now.  God  grant  to  bless  the  boy  and  you. 
Yes,   bless  the  boy  and  you ! " 

The  dear  old  heart,  so  genuine,  so  strong, 
and  so  fatherly !  All  tears  in  an  instant,  she 
went  close  up  and  kissed  him  and  clung  to 
him,  even  as  he  handed  her  along  to  Mark,  who 
now  drew  near. 


158  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"You  will  go  to  meet  mamma  with  me, 
Mark  ? "  she  asked  timidly,  as  he  was  about  to 
lead  her  out  to  view  the  morning  from  the  ve- 
randa. 

"  No,  dearest ;  I  have  relegated  both  the 
mothers   to  my  father.     Who  can  resist  him  ? " 

An  hour's  walking  and  wooing,  in  the  glory 
of  the  sunrise,  in  the  breath  and  perfume  of 
leaves  shining  wet  in  dew,  with  glimpses  through 
tree-tops  of  the  far-stretching  lowlands,  from 
which  the  mists  were  lifting  with  portents  to 
this   enraptured   pair. 

When  at  length  they  came  in-doors,  the  old 
captain  was  waiting  for  them .  by  the  library, 
with  the  two  mothers  on  either  arm,  "  like  a 
tug  between  two  ships."  His  hearty  voice  cried 
out : 

"  It's  all  right,  children.  Yes,  yes.  I  brought 
'em  round  easily  enough,"  and  he  laughed  be- 
tween  every   word.     Then   more  gravely : 

"All  right,  except  this  going  off  to  the  wars. 
Hem!"  An  instant's  recurrence  to  that  thought 
was  enough  to  choke  his  utterance.  "  God  bless 
ye."     And   he   was   silent. 

The  women  made  their  dash  at  the  young 
people.  There  were  tears  and  little  outcries. 
There  was  a  sweep    of    white    down    the    broach 


THE  SOLDIER'S  WEDDING, 


159 


Stair,  and  Miss  Hardy  on  the  scene,  astonished, 
informed,  then  set  in  the  bouquet  of  emotion 
somewhere,   like   one   passion   flower   more. 

Then  there  was  the  breakfast,  which  the  two 
men  ate ;  but   the  women  ?    The   idea ! 

After  that  the  wedding  fixings  for  the  wom- 
en's heads  and  hands,  and  the  war  fixings  for 
the  men's. 

Mark  was  to  be  gone  all  the  following  day, 
agreeable  to  his  promise  made  to  the  men  who 
had  informally  elected  him  captain.  When  he 
left,  to  drive  down  the  mountain,  it  was  under- 
stood that  he  should  engage  the  clergyman  for 
that  day  week;  but  by  afternoon  he  had  tele- 
graphed back  to  Eaglecroft,  and  got  assent  to 
put  it  ^^ three  days  away;  for  his  men  were  to 
be  forwarded  like  a  mpb  to  help  save  the  capi- 
tal:' 

You  can  hardly  credit  me,  reader,  you  stickler 
for  proprieties !  No ;  but  it  was  a  time  of  war. 
It  is  difficult  for  the  swift  pen  to  put  to  paper 
the  domestic  events  that  trod  upon  each  other's 
heels,  those  days,  in  many  a  New  England 
home,  usually  most  sedate  and  orderly ;  swiftly, 
yet  not  with  confusion,  and  not  without  reason, 
events  that  ordinarily  consume  months  or  even 
years,  were  transpiring  in  hours. 


l6o  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

In  a  whirl  of  war  times  at  Eaglecroft  every- 
thing went  on.  Unfortunate  Mrs.  Lane  was 
prostrated  one  hour  and  recovered  the  next ;  on 
the  whole  the  shock  was  good  for  her,  being 
stimulating  to  self-forgetfulness.  Her  heart-of-oak 
brother  came  hurrying  up  from  the  city  the 
next  morning  and  promptly  ranged  himself,  fully 
assenting,   on   Laura's   side. 

"We  will  fix  the  farm  business  somehow,  and 
take  care  of  her,"  meaning  the  widow,  '*  between 
us,"   with   a   roguish   glance   at   Mark's    father. 

The  new  uniform  came,  and  they  must  all 
handle  the  shining  sword,  for  in  those  days  real 
swords  were  strange  toys  in  all  hands;  the 
shoulder  straps  with  two  little  bars  were  mys- 
teries, and  impossible  to  have  been  got  with 
such  dispatch  except  for  that  man  of  resources, 
the  sharp  recruiting  agent,  whom  we  saw  at  the 
hotel. 

Somehow,  the  prettiest  wedding  dress  in  the 
world  was  fashioned;  and  as  for  the  other  ladies, 
why,  it  was  to  be  simply  a  family  affair.  The 
day  came,  and  the  old  clergyman  from  the  vil- 
lage came.  The  hour  came  and  passed.  They 
were  wed.  It  was,  I  remember,  Monday  morn- 
ing, at  eleven  o'clock,  and  as  fair  a  day  as  eve/ 
was   spread   on   the   brilliant  July   earth. 


THE  SOLDIER'S   WEDDING.  i6i 

There  was  an  honest  attempt  made,  usually, 
at  those  strange  weddings  of  '6i,  to  be  merry, 
as  all  should  be  upon  a  wedding  day.  And 
there  was,  indeed,  no  lack  of  high  excitement, 
at  least,  to  kindle  laughter  and  speed  the  happy 
hours ;  but  it  was  quite  too  plain  that  it  was 
excitement,  and  not  the  flow  of  joyous  spirits, 
after  all.  The  cloud  was  at  hand;  in  an  hour 
more  it  would  shut  out  the  sun,  do  your  best 
with   your  obliging  cheer,    kind   neighbors. 

"  I  have  locked  the  door  to  the  library, 
Mark,"  cried  Mr.  Hardy,  shaking  the  key  in 
the   young   man's  face. 

The  telegraph  instrument  was  in  the  library. 
Yet,  the  sly  fellow,  this  same  patriotic  mayor 
used  that  key  every  fifteen  minutes  to  enter  and 
read  the  tape  that  had  begun  to  print  off  nightly 
tidings.  For  a  time,  however,  he  kept  those 
tidings   to   himself. 

"I  have  told  those  musical  fellers  to  skip  all 
national  airs,*'  said  the  old  captain.  '*I  thought 
we  would  keep  well  off  shore  of  all  these  war 
troubles   for  one   day,    at    least." 

And  the  old  sailor  took  his  place  in  the  fam- 
ily glee  with  a  zest  that  provoked  you  to  broad 
laughter  during  the  short  time  that  he  "com- 
manded"  it, 


l62  A    WEDDING  IN   WAR-TIME, 

The  air  was  full  of  sweet  sounds.  The  lawns 
were  crowded  with  servants,  looking  on  through 
the  windows ;  even  the  wood-choppers  and  the 
road-menders  were  there,  wishing  this  '  happy 
couple  well.  And  so  ran  on  the  time  till  noon. 
One  short  hour.  It  must  have  been  just  about 
an  hour  after  the  clergyman's  last  words  that 
Mr.  Hardy,  who  had  been  showing  evident 
signs  of  uneasiness  as  Mark  watched  him,  came 
from  the  furtive  library  visit  with  a  face  so 
grave   that   it   coald   not   but   provoke   question, 

"  Look  here,  old  comrade,  what's  in  the 
wind?"  This  from  the  old  captain,  as  he  seized 
his   arm. 

"I  must  know,  too,"  said  Mark,  quickly  ap- 
proaching. 

"Come  aside,  then,"  was  Mr.  Hardy's  whis- 
pered  reply. 

By  noon  of  that  day  came  the  tidings  of  the 
saddest  sorrow  this  republic  had  ever  known. 
That  terrible  Sunday  at  Manassas,  and  the 
utter  defeat  of  the  Union  arms!  The  capital 
itself  probably  now  burning!  Every  available 
man   to   the   front   without   an    hour's   delay! 

Mark  sought  out  his  wife  and  led  her  apart. 
The  dread  news  was  given  by  Mr.  Hardy  to 
everybody,    and    dispersed     them    into    groups    ol 


THE  SOLDIER'S  WEDDING.  163 


twos  and  threes.  Mark  held  his  wife's  face 
between  his  hands,  and,  kissing  it  over  and 
over,   began  to   say: 

"It  would  have  been  only  a  week  or  two 
more  at  best,  darling.  You  will  show  all  these 
people  what  a  heroine  you  are.  You  know  the 
war  gave  you   to  me.*' 

Laura  answered  not  a  word,  but  clung  about 
him  helplessly  for  a  little.  Indeed,  they  con- 
versed without  words.  She  felt  his  thoughts ;  he 
felt  her  thoughts.  Who  but  knows  how  it  is  ! 
Who  but  knows  what  it  is !  It  is  in  the  touch 
of  hands,  in  the  pressure  of  the  person,  in  the 
silent  spurn  of  speech.  It  is  the  heart's  inter- 
view, and  not  the  heart's  audience ;  for  it  is 
seeing,  and  not  hearing.  They  gazed  upon  each 
other's   souls   in   rapture   and   in   agony ! 

They  knew  this  was  to  be  the  parting,  for 
before  sunset  Mark's  company  was  to  march  out 
from  the  village  green  to  join  the  regiment. 
Whatever  the  wife  would  say  in  secret  must  be 
said  now.  Yet  she  made  no  explanations.  Why 
should  she,  being  at  last  this  one's  wife.?  That 
fact  overwhelmed  the  past.  All  entanglements, 
all  inconsistencies  in  action,  all  fears  were  over- 
laid by  this  supreme  present.  If  Mark  ever 
should    care   to   inquire,    one    word    would    satisfy 


6d  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


him :  "I  am  your  wife.  Whatever  was  between 
me  'J.nd  that  man  matters  not,  since  I  became 
youT    wife.'* 

And  he  saw  this  by  interview.  He  disdained 
to  recall  such  trifles  as  lovers*  quarrels  and  girl- 
ish freakishness.  He,  the  husband  and  the  hero! 
Somehow  he  could  only  think  and  feel  in  the 
immense  and  the  heroic.  His  great  errand  had 
made  him  great.  In  rare  moments,  once  or 
(twice  in  a  lifetime,  it  is  given  to  nearly  all 
men  to  be  great  men.  In  those  early  days  of 
patriotic  vehemence,  debts,  sorrows,  looms,  an- 
7ils,  cases  at  court,  aged  quarrels,  plans  of 
wealth,  the  children's  schooling,  —  everything  else 
shrunk  to  the  size  of  trifles  beside  the  vast 
purpose :  To   War  for  the   Union." 

What  wonder,  then,  if,  from  his  high  summit, 
:he  husband-hero  looked  with  contempt  upon  the 
:rash  of  jealousies  and  heart-burnings  with  which 
he  had  distracted  himself  on  the  Smiles*  ac- 
count.? All  that  was  "before  the  war,"  —  a 
phrase  to  be  long  used  in  this  land.  All  that 
was  before  he  became  a  man  or  she  a  woman; 
before  he  became  a  husband  or  she  a  wife;  be- 
fore he  became  a  hero  or  she  a  heroine. 
Heaven  bless  her!  How  he  trusted  her,  and 
trusted   Heaven   with   her  safe-keeping. 


THE  SOLDIER'S  WEDDING,  165 

And  then,  too,  they  both  believed  the  world 
had  changed.  This  is  always  the  outlook  from 
the  wedding- day  windows,  but  especially  wedding 
days   of   '61. 

Laura   spoke   of  it,   remarking: 

"  Do  you  really  believe,  Mark,  that  this  great 
war  is  going  to  change  the  hearts  of  all  the 
people  about  us,  and  make  them  as  kind  as  — 
as  charitable,  if  you  please  —  as  they  all  seem 
to  us   now  ? " 

"  Or,  is  this  the  out-look  from  wedding-day 
windows  always?"  he  replied,  smilingly  supplying 
her  suppressed   alternative. 

**  Yes,  especially  wedding-days  in  times  of  war. 
Can  the  selfish  world  be  trusted  to  keep  its 
fair  promises  to  you  soldiers.?  Will  the  present 
admiration  of  the  hero  guard  all  the  hero's  pos- 
sessions } " 

"  What  harm   can  the  world  do  us  ? " 

"  I  wonder  how  your  social  world  will  look 
on  me,  when  I  go  down  to  the  city  with 
you .? " 

"Why,  with  royal  welcome,  of  course.  Indeed, 
they  had  better!"  his  worshipful  gaze  changing 
into   a  defiant   one. 

''All  your  church  people,  for  instance,"  feel- 
ing   her    way  back    to    the    miserable    theme    of 


l66  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


her  supposed,  her  acknowledged,  religious  incom- 
patibility. 

"My  dear  girl,"  with  affectionate  decision,  "I 
will  hear  no  more  of  that.  You  are  a  believer! 
And  somehow,  you  trembling  thing,  I  am  confi- 
dent that  creatures  of  the  Smiles  genus  will 
never  cross  our  path  nor  crawl  into  our  sight 
again." 

"At  any  rate,'*  she  resumed,  after  a  brooding 
silence,  "we  two  have  but  one  sorrow  for  this 
hour,   the   sorrow   of  parting." 

"And  even  that  is  thrilling.  We  have  a  great 
double  joy;  that  we  have  been  wed  these  three 
hours,  and  are  of  high  rank  among  God's 
earthly  servants  because  we  suffer  so  keenly  for 
the   sake   of   serving." 

They  sat,  trembling  with  rapture  and  with 
grief,  upon  the  broad  veranda,  whence  the  white 
tents  of  the  camp  far  down  in  the  valley  could 
be  seen ;  sat,  left  to  themselves,  till  the  carriage 
should  make  haste  for  the  drive  down  the 
mountain. 

They  sat  in  prayer,  withal,  towards  the  last, 
and  she  suggested  it;  or  rather  she,  observing 
his  closed  eyes,  through  which  a  tear  was  at 
length   struggling,    softly   whispered: 

"Let  me  hear  you,  dearest.  It  will  teach  me 
how." 


THE  SOLDIER'S   WEDDING. 


167 


If  a  pang  struck  through  him  at  the  thought 
that  it  might  more  properly  have  been  the 
other  way,  that  a  man's  wife  should  have  been 
his  teacher  in  approach  to  the  throne  of  infinite 
mercy,  he  hid  the  pain  and  tightened  his  large 
hand  upon  her  sm.all  one,  and  spoke  his  petition 
to  the  Universal  Father.  The  low  murmur  of 
the  manly  voice,  trembling  with  the  tenderness 
of  youth's  opulent  emotion,  lifting  the  two  lives 
into  the  protection  of  the  Great  Wing,  made  at 
least  the  union  of  the  two  souls  complete,  for 
this   world. 

Then  the  craunching  of  the  carriage  wheels 
over  the  fresh  gravel,   drawing  nigh. 


l68  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


VIII. 

OFF    TO  THE  FRONT. 

^npHE  bells!  The  bells!  The  bells  of  Beth- 
-*-       lehem ! 

As  the  colts  which  Mark  drove  flew  along 
the  country  road,  which  ended  in  the  main 
street  of  the  village,  they  pricked  ears  to  the 
strange  ringing  of  the  bells.  The  driver  and  his 
bride  remarked  upon  the  bells,  and  their  hearts 
beat  quicker  for  their  melody.  Old  Captain 
Broon,  with  the  other  ladies  of  the  family,  fol- 
lowing close  behind,  hushed  his  cheery  conver- 
sation—  the  invariable  sign  of  excitement  with 
him  being  a  solemn  speechlessness, — and  ordered 
the   coachman; 

"Crowd  on  more  sail,  Tom!  Keep  close  to 
Mark ! " 

Through  the  fine  dust  that  swirled  upward  in 
the  evening  red  of  a  sundown  deeply  tinted ; 
through  the  "Indian  file"  of  pedestrians  that 
from  a  hundred  farms  Hned  the  roadway,  and 
skurried   out  to  let  them  pass;    through  vehicles 


OFF  TO   THE  FRONT.  1 69 

of  every  kind  that,  loaded  with  old  men  and 
women  and  children,  filled  the  winding  path  be- 
tween the  stone  walls,  green  with  wild  vines;  on 
they  bowled,   and   to   the   music   of  the   bells. 

The  bells  that  called  to  worship  yesterday, 
and  every  Sunday  since  they  were  first  hung 
in  those  New  England  steeples,  this  day,  for 
the  first  time,  called  to  war.  In  New  England 
villages  all  the  church  bells  do  make  this  ex- 
ception :  they  ring  in  case  of  fire.  But  this 
was  not  the  fire-bell  note.  The  same  bells  also 
toll  at  every  villager's  death,  and  tell  his  age. 
But  this  was  not  the  death  bell.  They  ring, 
indeed,  on  the  morning  of  the  Fourth  of  July. 
But  this  was  not  the  note  of  Independence 
Day.  They  ring  for  the  worship  of  God  in 
Sabbath*s  holy  calm ;  and  there  is,  to  the  Yan- 
kee born,  no  sweeter  melody  than  the  tranquil 
ringing  of  the  old  "first  bells,  at  nine  o'clock;" 
a  music,  wind-borne  over  meadow  and  glassy 
stream,  over  hill  farms,  upland  pastures,  mingled 
with  the  diapason  of  forest  trees,  echoed  from 
the  blue  mountains.  But  the  bells  of  this  July 
evening  were  not  calling  to  the  house  of  prayer. 
Their  note  and  clamor  were  indescribable.  They 
mingled  all  their  former  tidings  in  ti4ings  new. 
Not    a    ringer    knew    that     he    pulled    a    tocsin. 


I70  A    WEDDIAV  IN  WAR-TIME, 

But  what  else  could  he  pull,  his  heart  beating 
tocsin  as  he  sweated  by  the  great  doors  of 
the  church  this  summer  night?  Fire,  Death, 
the  Fourth,  Worship!  Ah,  who  can  forget  how 
the  bells  used  to  ring  when  "our  company" 
marched  away! 

The  village  in  holiday  attire  for  that  which 
was  not  a  holiday.  Not  many  flags.  Haste,  ye 
shuttles !  Weave  flags  enough  for  us  and  the 
generation  before  us,  for  we  have  no  flags. 
Meanwhile  hang  we  red  and  white  and  blue  in 
shapes  so  vulgar  that  we  laugh  as  we  cheer 
them,  passing  the  window.  Then  we  grow 
hushed  because  of  the  aged  face  all  tears  at 
the  window;  the  face  gazing  down  the  street 
whither  the  decrepit  feet  could  not  follow  the 
young  feet  that  have  just  passed  out  at  the 
gate. 

Reader,  you  and  Mark  Broon  and  his  bride 
of  these  four  hours,  and  all  that  hied  along, 
and  I,  saw  frequent  sights   to  damp  our  cheeks. 

On  thresholds  of  the  villagers'  peaceful  homes, 
the  man  and  his  sire,  the  man  and  his  babe, 
for  crutch  and  cradle  could  not  go  to  the 
Green. 

The  lovers,  man  and  maid,  beneath  the  old 
trysting  maple,   secreted,  yet  seen. 


OFF  TO   THE  FRONT.  171 

The  invalid  wife,  with  marble  cheek,  against 
her  good  man's  cheek  of  bronze;  the  pet  hound 
that  leaped  after  his  young  master,  and  made 
mournful   notes   as   he   lay   down   to  his  chain. 

The  boy-soldier  himself,  knowing  and  yet  not 
knowing  what  all  this  meant,  as  he,  so  smartly 
dressed  in  regimentals,  paused  and  turned  with 
one  last  look  at  the  tree  and  trellis,  at  the 
gable  with  his  chamber  dormer,  at  the  hoe,  the 
plow,  the  harvest-cart,  and  then  at  the  musket 
in  his  white-gloved  clutch,  which  reminded  him 
to    march  away. 

"  Three   cheers   for  Captain   Broon ! " 

If  it  was  three,  it  was  three  hundred  that 
Mark  and  Laura  had  heard  since  they  turned 
the  corner  and  began  to  slowly  cross  the  open 
space  that  formed  the  Green.  The  horses  trod 
softly,  for  the  people  were  many.  It  was  here 
that  the  tents  had  stood  these  last  few  days ; 
tents  that  are  packed  in  yonder  cars  this  hour 
now,  and  the  engine  pants  impatiently  for  the 
living   remnant   of   its   load. 

Here  is  high  confusion  waiting  for  the  order 
which  this  young  officer  has  come  to  ordain. 
Just  now  he  sits  and  looks  at  this  running  to 
and  fro;  this  bundling  of  treasures  in  small 
compass     and    hiding     them    in    knapsacks ;     this 


72  ■      A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


aarting  about  of  messengers,  who  are  children 
and  boys  and  women,  with  the  last  little  dis- 
patches and  freights  from  home  and  to  home; 
this  clasping  of  hands  and  clinging  upon  necks ; 
this  vowing  and  laughing,  vowing  and  weeping. 
The  young  commander  sits  yet  in  his  vehicle — 
his  groom  by  the  colts, — and  leans  forward,  not 
in  West  Point  form,  on  the  hilt  of  his  new 
sword,  while  his  wife  toys  with  the  belt  and  sash ; 
sits  very  thoughtfully,  not  only  seeing,  but  hear- 
ing all  these  patriotic  sounds,  and  over  all  the 
wild,   glad   ringing   of  the   bells. 

At  the  head  of  the  Green  stands  the  church. 
Its  old  white  front  is  topped  by  a  steeple, 
which  bears  a  clock.  The  tongue  in  its  throat 
is  to  keep  up  this  unclocklike  clangor  till  the 
finger  on  its  face  marks  the  hour.  Capt.  Broon 
compares  his  watch  with  the  clock,  and  turns 
to   say : 

"It   is   time,    Laura." 

He  put  out  his  hand  for  the  trappings  which 
she  held,  and  in  doing  so  caught  her  two  hands 
for  a  moment.  Their  eyes  met.  She  attempted 
to  speak,  but  the  trembling  lips  curled  helplessly 
and  in  silence  her  lashes  fell.  O  Heaven,  the 
women !  the  women !  How  calm  they  often 
were    outwardly,     the    day     "the    boys     marched 


OFF  TO   THE  FRONT  1 73 

away!"  But,  Heaven,  on  what  tempests  of  un- 
rest didst  Thou  look  when  these  women  were 
alone ! 

With  a  spring  Mark  Broon  was  standing  on 
the  ground  and   buckling  on   his   accoutrements. 

"No,  no,  papa,"  eagerly  cried  Laura,  as  Mark's 
father  came  quickly  to  cheer  her.  "  Help  me  to 
get  down,  please.  I  am  all  courage  now.  I 
want  to   tie   his   sash." 

And  she  and  a  thousand  other  wives,  in  pro- 
saic '61,  did  literally  belt  their  knights  for  holy 
war,  as  in  the  days  of  chivalry.  She  was  pass- 
ing lovely  as  she  did  it,  too,  bending  in  grace, 
touching  with  tasteful  fingers  this  gear  of  pa- 
rade, and  all  red  and  white  by  turns,  regarding 
bow  and  tassel  with  arched  movements  of  her 
neck.  Lovely,  so  that  the  neighboring  women 
forgot  for  the  nonce  their  sorrows  to  gaze  upon 
her,    and   to   whisper: 

"The   captain's   wife." 

"Yes,   and  a  bride." 

"The   bride  of  to-day!" 

"How   can   he   leave   her.?" 

"How?"  And  the  speaker,  a  matron  of 
forty,  with  a  babe  at  her  breast,  flashed  fire  in 
her  dark  eyes.  "How.?  How,  think  you,  my 
Enoch  goes  and  leaves  us  six?  My  Enoch  for 
twenty    years  I" 


174 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


And  now  Laura  had  rest  from  her  heartache 
in  her  pride.  She  stood  insensible  of  her 
mother's  caresses,  the  kisses  and  tears  of  sweet 
Maud  Hardy,  and  the  other  Mrs.  Broon's  tender 
words ;  all  of  whom,  with  the  old  captain,  clus- 
tered about  her.  But  gazing  only  on  her  hus- 
band, now  advancing  towards  his  men,  she  was 
comforted  in  a  most  restful  and  pure  admiration 
of  him.  She  gloried  in  him!  She  delighted  in 
every  line  of  his  martial  figure  as  he  stood 
alone  some  paces  before  the  men,  as  yet  un- 
formed. She  foresaw  him  colonel  of  a  regiment, 
a  general,  a  great  general,  and  the  country's 
idol !  It  was  a  thrilling  dream.  There  were 
many  such  poetesses  those  days.  She  started 
at  the  silence  as  the  bells  now  ceased  to  ring, 
and  waited,  with  a  curious  trembling,  for  him  to 
speak   the   sharp   word   of   command. 

"  Attention,    company  ! " 

The  hundred  militiamen  heard  it.  The  ten 
hundred  spectators  heard  it,  clear,  startling,  and 
stilling  every  chattering  tongue.  How  absolute 
the  order  seemed!  It  was  consummation.  It 
was  reality  at  last.  Thus  and  so  sharply  ended 
this  picnic,  this  play-day  at  soldiering  on  the 
greensward  of  the  village.  There  were  many  who 
had    said   it    ** would    never    come    to    this;'     bu. 


OFF  TO   THE  FRONT,  1 75 

it  had.  As  for  Mark,  he  felt  that  with  that 
opening  of  his  lips  he  began  the  war;  and  for 
this   valley   he   did. 

"Fall   in!" 

The  bustling  sergeant  dressed  his  men  in 
line. 

Strangely  serious,  as  it  had  never  seemed  be- 
fore on  any  "June  training,"  or  other  day  of 
mimic  parade,  sound  now  the  crisp  orders  of 
the  manual  of  arms;  for  this  was  sober  reality. 
There  was  conscience  in  every  movement.  And 
when  did  Aldershot  or  Champs  de  Mars  evcL' 
furnish  such  conscience  in  the  spectator  faces 
round   about   review.? 

The  people  drew  the  circle  of  their  presence 
in;  they  were  near  enough  almost  to  touch  the 
officers.  But  they  needed  no  police  to  keep  the 
decorous  peace.  The  very  children,  perched  on 
shoulders  of  the  wife  and  grandsire,  held  their 
tongues.  No  cheers  resounded.  The  border  ma- 
ples ceased  to  whisper,  for  the  breeze  died  with 
the  sun.  Under  the  leaves,  aslant,  the  red  ray 
shot  its  parting  glory,  and  flashed  on  the  bayo- 
nets of  the  soldiers  and  brass  of  the  musicians, 
while  making  the  men's-  shadows  into  a  giant 
troop   upon   the   distant   turf. 

The  aged  pastor,   the  old   Emeritus,   bared    his 


1/6  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

<^ead  and  took  his  place  at  Mark's  side.  The 
prayer  was  not  loud;  but  who  failed  to  hear  its 
every  throbbing  syllable?  It  was  not  long;  but 
what  did  it  leave  unsaid?  For  hearts  were  so 
one  that  the  slightest  word  meant  volumes  ol 
the  great  thoughts  with  which  each  breast  was 
filled.  Once  the  old  man  paused,  as  deep  emo- 
tion choked  his  utterance.  It  was  not  when  he 
invoked  God's  blessing  on  the  men,  nor  when 
he  spoke  of  loved  ones  left  at  home;  nor  when 
he  asked  for  a  shield  from  bullets  and  fevers, 
from  fears  and  temptations ;  nor  yet  when  he 
tenderly  petitioned  that  these  returning  safe 
should  find  no  death-emptied  chair  nor  cradle  at 
the  fireside, — for  we  never  dreamed  that  the 
child  would  outgrow  the  cradle  ere  this  sad  busi- 
ness was  done.  No;  the  white-haired  pastor 
stumbled  in  his  prayer  and  paused,  with  great 
tears  coursing  down  his  jocund  cheeks,  when  he 
told  Heaven  of  the  father-land,*  and  attempted 
to  speak  of  the  "dear  old  flag."  Strange  that 
it  was   so;  yet  it   was. 

In  those  days  men  used  to  kiss  the  flag; 
used  to  stop  and  look  up  at  it,  laid  out 
against  the  New  England  hills  and  sky,  and 
find  their  hot  eyes  cooled  with  sudden  dews, 
they  could    not     tell    just    why.      The    flag    was 


OFF    TO   THE  FRONT  177 


everywhere  in  sight  before  long,  we  so  hungered 
for  it  It  seemed  to  spring  up  like  the  green 
sprouts  upon  corn-hills,  as  if  it  were  a  growth 
of  nature,  that  summer.  You  remember  it, 
brother,  as  you  looked  out  from  some  high  fore- 
land over  a  wide  landscape,  "the  flag"  every- 
where, everywhere,  peeping  and  flashing  near 
and  far  through  the  foliage  and  against  the  pur- 
ple  hills. 

As  the  preacher  sought  to  give  this  sentiment 
tongue,  he  could  no  more  than  name  it.  There 
was  a  universal  sob !  It  was  the  heart-throe  of 
these  hundreds.  It  was  sublime.  It  was  terri- 
ble. It  was  new.  God  helped  us  to  a  certain 
habitude  as  months  passed,  or  we  should  have 
died  of  this  awful  emotion  too  oft  repeated  ere 
the   five  long  years   passed  away. 

"Amen!" 

That  was  the  way  he  left  it.  Abruptly: 
"Amen!"  In  an  instant  Capt.  Broon's  command 
rescued   us. 

"Attention,   company!    Shoulder  arms!" 

Laura  wondered  how  he  could  get  voice  for 
it,  and  she  could  scarce  restrain  herself  from 
flying  at   him   with   one  more. eager  embrace. 

"Not  so,  daughter,"  said  the  old  sea  captain, 
putting  his  arms   about   her  and   kissing   her,  hxs 


178  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

ruddy  face  damp  with  weeping.  "Not  so.  No 
doubt  you  have  had  your  good-bye,  child.  I 
gave  you  my  hour  with  him,  up  on  the  veranda. 
Now  he  goes.     See!     Isn't  he  a  splendid  boy?" 

The  band  struck  up  the  music  of  a  march. 
Was  ever  such  a  band?  Mark's  pocket  had  pro- 
vided for  the  throwing  together  of  pieces  for 
"the  band"  for  just  this  emergency.  The 
throng  parted  for  their  advance.  The  order 
rang,  and  they  began  the  long  campaign  amid 
cheers  that  drowned  all  sobs.  It  was  the  revul- 
sion of  feeling,  the  sight  of  rhythmic  movement, 
and  the  martial  strains  that  inspired  and  made 
possible  such  hurrahs.  There  was  such  a  lusty 
uproar  from  these  rural  throats,  and  given  with 
breath  after  breath  in  this  invigorating  air,  as 
would  make  the  cheer  of  city  crowds  seem  piping 
treble.  It  was  a  good  round  cheer  on  cheer,  and 
not  a  yell.  This  afterwards  became  a  historic 
difference  upon  the  battlefield.  The  North  roared 
their  hurrahs;   the    South  yelled  theirs. 

Laura  sat  in  her  husband's  vehicle,  with  the 
groom  doing  his  best  to  keep  the  colts  in 
order,  driven  as  they  now  were  as  close  in  upon 
the  train  as  was  possible.  Old  Capt.  Broon,  in 
the  dray  with  the  other  ladies,  was  also  per- 
mitted to  urge  his  team  into  the  dense  throng 
that  filled  the   depot  yard. 


OFF  TO  THE  FRONT, 


179 


The  last  of  the  line  had  filed  into  tne  cars. 
The  instrumental  music  had  ceased,  and  "the 
boys"  were  singing,  in  a  sort  of  desperate, 
wild  way,  what  might  or  might  not  have  been 
"Hail  Columbia."  Young  Capt.  Broon  stood 
alone  upon  the  platform,  with  the  point  of  his 
new  sword  pecked  into  the  planking  under  his 
feet,  like  a  walking  stick,  no  doubt  awkwardly, 
looking  the  while  at  that  bright  lady,  his  wife 
these  five  hours.  He  saw  no  one  else;  she  saw 
no  one  else.  He  forgot,  for  the  moment,  that 
he  was  a  soldier;  but  she  did  not;  she  would 
have  died  if  she  had  forgotten  that.  Her  only 
refuge  was  in   remembering  that   patriotic  fact. 

"How  grand  he  is!  How  heroic  he  is!  He 
goes  to  save  the  Union.  He  is  a  soldier,  and 
I  am  a  soldier's  wife.  I  will  smile.  I  will  be 
all  good  cheer.     He  shall  remember  me   so." 

And  from  the  tips  of  her  white  fingers  she 
gave   him   fond   love  with  brave   adieu. 

But  he  mounted  the  car  steps  as  the  train 
moved  away,  as  if,  of  a  sudden,  his  feet 
weighed   each   a  ton. 

There  is  this  difference  between  man  and 
woman  :  his  heart  fell  then,  but  beat  high  again 
an  hour  after;  her  heart  beat  high  then,  but 
fell  for  many,   many   hours  after. 


l8o  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


IX. 

HERO   OR  POLTROON. 

/T^HE  throng  was  dispersing,  and  young  Mrs. 
-*"  Broon's  driver  was  about  to  rein  out  for 
the  return,  the  old  captain  shouting  from  his 
carriage  that  it  was  "best  to  get  up  the  moun- 
tain before  dark,"  when  Dr.  Smiles  did  not 
dart  — r  the  doctor  glided  always,  where  other 
men  would  dart  or  ste^  out  boldly,  —  but  glided 
to   the  side  of   the   dray,   with  : 

"Ah,  my  d-e-a-r  Mrs.  Lane!  A  most  unex- 
pected pleasure."  At  the  the  same  time  taking 
up  that  lady's  hand  before  she  could  raise  it 
from   her   lap. 

"  Drop  anchor,   Tom  !  " 

Laura  overheard  the  old  captain's  roar  to  the 
driver. 

"  You'll  swamp  the  —  the  man  alongside  the 
ladies." 

Laura  did  not  need  to  look  over  her  shoulder. 
She  recognized  the  first  voice,  with  a  shudder 
indescribable.     But   the  second  voice   was   such  a 


HERO   OR  POLTROON,  l8l 

great  refuge.  The  smooth  tones,  then  the 
rough  tones.  The  mean  and  the  manly.  The 
very  voices  seemed  to  the  young  wife  to  grap- 
ple with  each  other  in  the  air  of  nightfall. 
She  knew  the  two  speakers  had  never  met  till 
this  moment,  and  that  it  was  almost  too  dark 
for  the  old^  captain  to  read  the  features  at  the 
carriage  side.  Therefore,  it  must  have  been  an 
intuitive  recognition  on  the  captain's  part,  or 
else  a  disrelish  of  the  doctor's  voice  that  pro- 
voked  such   severity   in   the   old   man's   tones. 

**  Stop,  coachman,"  Laura  said  promptly. 
"  Heaven   hide   me.     What    a    day  this ! " 

Then  realizing  to  whom  she  was  speaking,  she 
strove  to  appear  calm  before  her  servant.  But 
it  seemed  more  than  the  young  heart  could  con- 
tain. This  being  ensnared  again,  on  her  poor 
mother's  account,  by  the  evil  genius  whom  she 
had  for  some  hours  put  clean  out  of  her 
world  ;  this,  after  all  that  the  day  had  done  since 
sunrise   to   thrill    every  sensibility  of   her  being ! 

"Oh,  thank  God,  it  is  rugged  captain  Broon 
who  faces  him  this  time,"  she  thought.  "  How 
often  I  have  wished  these  two  men  could  meet, 
and  the  true  one  annihilate  the  false  one !  But 
this   is  not   the   place,   nor  the   time." 

She   flew  after   Mark    and    nestled   in    his    pro- 


l82  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

Section ;  and  then,  alas,  flew  back  again  to  this 
carriage  seat,  where  her  body  had  been  all  the 
time. 

**  Why,   good   Dr.    Smiles,   you   here } " 

It  was  Mrs.  Lane's  quite  cordial  reply.  Then 
continuing,   the  lady   introduced   him  all  round. 

"  Yes,  I  am  here,"  the  man  r^esumed,  one 
hand  holding  a  spoke  of  the  wheel,  and  the 
other  attempting  again  to  get  the  lady's  hand. 
*'  You  are  aware  that  I  am  prospecting  up 
here  for  a  site.  I  am  still  intending  to  found 
my  great  Remedial  Cosmopolitan,  Religio-magnetic 
Institute  amid  these  salubrious  mountains,  kind 
friends." 

"Ah,  doctor,  still  engaged  in  your  great  be- 
nevolent work,  I  see,"  Mrs.  Lane  replied,  be- 
ginning to  fan   herself  excitedly. 

"  Precisely  thus,"    he  answered. 

Then,  hoping  that  it  was  safe  to  do  so,  judg- 
ing from  the  eager  interest  in  her  face,  he  re- 
leased the  carriage  wheel  and  put  his  thumbs 
together,  rolling  them  in  the  old  manner,  and 
saying  : 

"  I  supposed  you  must  have  been  informed  of 
our  continued  tarry  in  the  mountains  by  Miss 
Laura  —  " 

"  *  Miss  ?  *    Did  you  say   *  Miss/   my  friend  ? " 


HERO  OR   POLTROON. 


183 


The  father  had  so  completely  taken  his  son's 
wife  into  his  heart,  that  he  was  promptly  jeal- 
ous over  Smiles*   ignorance. 

"Yes,  sir.  I  have  the  honor  to  know  this 
lady's  daughter  very  well.  Indeed,  I  may  say 
she   and   my   son  —  " 

"Your   son,   friend  V 

The  captain's  good-natured  roar  was  louder 
than  usual,  for  even  he  was  now  somewhat  warm 
with  excitement  and  decidedly  fretted  with  impa- 
tience to  be  gone.  Then  to  listen  to  the  doc- 
tor's  last  was   too   much. 

"  Your  son,  sir }  Why,  it  is  my  son  !  He's  the 
hero,  God  bless  him !  We  have  just  sent  the 
boy  to  —  God  only  knows  what.  Arid  there  sits 
his  wife !  Do  you  know  that  yonder  young  lady 
is  my   son's   wife }  ** 

Smiles  started  as  if  he  had  been  struck. 
Indeed,  he  was  struck.  There  was  a  sharp  little 
crack  as  Mrs.  Lane's  fan  descended,  all  too  fa- 
miliarly, so  others  thought,  on  his  shoulder,  and 
the  lady  leaned  over  the  side  of  the  vehicle  to 
say  : 

"It  is  true,  doctor.  Laura  and  young  Mr. 
Broon  were  married  this  very  noon  !  It  was  very 
sudden."  And  she  put  the  spread  fan  to  her  lips 
as  she  presumed  to    add    confidingly,    "Come    up 


1 84  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

to  Eaglecroft  to-morrow,  and  I'll  tell  you  aL 
about  it.  Do  now.  I  shall  need  your  professional 
services   after  this   day." 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  my  friend,"  said  the  cap- 
tain, promptly  seizing  the  opportunity.  "Glad  to 
see  you  any  day,  or  the  family  will  be,  for  I 
may  be  away.  But  I  see  my  son's  wife  has 
driven  off,  and  we  —  you  must  excuse  our  haste 
to   get   up  the  hill,  sir,  before  it  lowers  darker." 

With  a  bound  the  restless  horses  tore  away 
after  the  lighter  vehicle,  which  was  already  spin- 
ning up  the  village  street  far  in  front  of  them. 
The  old  captain  was  the  very  soul  of  hospitality 
and  old-time  poUteness,  always  after  his  own 
rough,  kind  fashion,  and  it  offended  his  own 
sense  of  propriety  a  little  to  look  back,  on  sec- 
ond thought,  and  see  Dr.  Smiles  still  standing 
nonplused  where  the  carriage  had  left  him.  So 
he   turned   apologetically   to   Mrs.    Lane,    saying: 

"Your  friend  will  come  aboard  us  at  Eagle- 
croft, madam,  of  course..  You  see,  Laura  sailed 
off,  and  I  wanted  to  keep  in  her  wake.  A 
great   doctor,  you   say.?" 

"Yes,"    was   the   faint   answer. 

"Oh,  captain,"  exclaimed  Madge  Hardy,  excit- 
edly, "I  do  so  hope  he  will  not.  I  just  think 
him   a  horrid   man,   and    his   son    is — is —     Aun- 


HERO  OR  PALTROON. 


185 


tie," — for  the  young  girl  caught  sight  of  some- 
thing in  her  aunt's  face  —  "forgive  me,  auntie. 
V/e  shall  never  agree  about  that  —  that  gentle- 
man and  his  son.  But  it  will  never  do  now, 
you   yourself  must   know,   auntie,  for  —  oh   dear!*' 

She  hid  her  confusion  in  a  sudden  turn 
aside. 

Captain.  Charles — as  we  may  designate  him 
till  Captain  Mark  wins  a  higher  title,  if  he  ever 
does  —  looked  hard  at  the  two  ladies,  and  mean- 
while finally  settled  his  own  instinctive  suspicions 
of  the  doctor  into  confirmed  aversion.  It  was 
marvelous,  the  woman-like  intuitions  of  this  stout 
old  dreamer  of  the  sea.  He  was  so  pure,  so 
true,  and  so  unselfish  himself  that  his  recoil 
from  the  reverse  in  character  was  as  prompt  as 
it  was  just.  Indeed,  his  friends  came  to  regard 
and  use  him  like  a  divining  rod,  in  business 
and  elsewhere,  wherewith  to  read  men ;  while 
his  own  family  trusted  the  reflections  of  his 
face,  confronting  strangers,  like  a  mirror.  Mrs. 
Broon  read  it  now  in  the  half-lights  of  twilight 
and  the  summer  moon,  and  took  quiet  alarm  on 
Mrs.  Lane's  account.  As  for  Laura,  why,  she 
was  beyond  danger  or  solicitude,  in  the  good 
step-mother's  mind,  being  wedded  wife  these  six 
hours. 


l86  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

After  a  long  silence,  which  everybody  observed, 
as  they  began  to  ascend  the  mountain,  Captain 
Charles  drew  a  deep  breath,   and   said: 

"A  great  doctor.     Ye-a-s." 

He  had  a  peculiar  way  of  drawling  out  that 
affirmative  particle  thoughtfully  and  conclusively, 
yet  with  a  shade  of  no  in  it.  The  family  always 
interpreted   the   drawled  yes   or  no. 

"A  religio  -  hyfaluten,  low -rigged,  fore-and-aft 
sort  of  a  what,   did   he   say?** 

As  no  one  else  seemed  likely  to  answer,  his 
wife   said,   quietly : 

**  Remedial  Institution,  father.  Let*s  drop  the 
subject.'* 

"Ye-a-s.  I  suppose  that  young  gentleman  who 
approached  him  as  we  left  him,  hull  down,  was 
his   son,   eh,   Miss    Madge.?*' 

"Do,  father,  let  us  change  the  subject," 
earnestly  remonstrated  Mrs.  Broon ;  for,  with  a 
woman's  instinct,  she  read  Mrs.  Lane's  troubled 
and  excited  frame  of  mind.  "Tom,  we  must 
keep  young  Mrs.  Broon  in  sight.  Don't  you  see 
how   she  flies  up  the  mountain?" 

So  let  her  fly;  for  she  and  you  and  I  know 
that   it   is   best  —  if,   indeed,   it   will   avail  her. 

No  sooner  had  this  young  wife  disappeared 
from    his    sight,    than    Dr.     Smiles    turned    and 


HERO  OR  PALTROON,  187 

reckoned  to  Erastus.  The  son  approached 
promptly;  and  the  depot  being  a  quiet  and  neg- 
lected spot  now,  the  two  sat  down  upon  a  pile 
of    railway  ties. 

"  Married ! " 

The  thumbs  wanted  all  the  fingers  to  help 
press,  in  this  press  of  ill  fortune,  and  it  seemed 
difficult  for  once  to  match  the  finger  tips  just 
to   a   hair. 

"Married.?" 

**  Since  the  sun  rose ;  and  he's  gone  to  these 
noble  wars,   to   be   her  hero   and   idol." 

"I   told  you  we   should  fail,   father." 

Erastus  bit  a  cigar  in  two  and  chewed  the 
fragments  with  his  lips,  not  his  teeth.  Then 
he   said,   for  the  doctor  was   saying    nothing: 

"  I  shall  now  get  out  of  this  vicinity  and 
this  business,  leaving  the  smart  boy  to  the 
spoils  of  his  victory,  if  he  ever  gets  back  to 
enjoy    them." 

This  with  a  sort  of  desperate  decision  that 
looked  almost  as  well  as  a  decent  manly  re- 
solve. 

"But  you   cannot  get   out." 

The  thumbs  were  set,  and  the  black  eyes 
were  set,  too,  hard  on  Erastus,  though  at  a 
side  glance. 


1 88  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

Erastus'   lips   exploded   like  a  bomb ! 

At  the  same  time  he  exclaimed,  starting  to 
his  feet : 

"You  do  not  mean  me  to  attempt  plotting 
with   another   man's   wife  ! "  ^ 

"  But  I  mean  to  build  my  fortunes  by  build- 
ing my  Sanitarium.  And  please  do  not  profane, 
Erastus.  One's  habits  in  privacy  become  his 
slips  in  public.  But  as  regard  this  borrowed 
money,  —  and   I   must   have   money — " 

Then  he  lapsed  into  silence,  he  and  his 
thumbs. 

Erastus  straddled,  and  waited  for  his  father  to 
resume.  After  a  few  moments  he  ventured  to 
ask : 

"Do  you   see  your  way   clear,   father?" 

"And  this  war  business  is  going  to  make 
widows,  I  calculate.  This  wedded  maid  may  yet 
be  —  that  is,  the  chances  of  war  may  prove  one 
man's   folly   and   another's   wisdom,    eh } " 

Erastus  Smiles  was  American  born.  He  had 
not  mingled  with  this  day's  scenes  altogether 
unmoved.  This  deliberate  calculation  of  his 
father  on  the  possible  death  of  patriot  soldiers 
shocked   him. 

"  Great  Heavens,  father !  It  would  be  worth 
your  life  to  manifest,  in  this  vicinity,  such  a  spirit 
as    prompted   that  last   remark." 


HERO  OR  PALTROON,  189 

"Hear   me,   you." 

The  doctor  was  now  on  his  feet  and  con- 
fronting his  son.  Indeed,  he  put  one  of  his 
long  arms  on  the  young  man's  shoulder;  his 
arm,  not  his  hand,  which  protruded  beyond, 
where  the  fingers  worked  in  the  air.  He  spoke 
in  very  solemn  accents  and  very  deep  tones ; 
but   he  was   none   the   less   infuriate. 

"I  shall  use  that  borrowed  money.  Of  course 
it  was  borrowed.  You  know  that  it  was  freely 
loaned.  Eventually  it  must  be  repaid,  it  seems, 
since   the   only   heir   is   not   to   be  your   wife." 

"  Oh,  ho !  Then  it  was  your  fortunes  that 
were  to  be  mended,  and  not  mine  to  be  made, 
I   see." 

"  Erastus,  my  son,  you  enrage  me,  but  that 
I  school  myself  to  keep  the  commandment. 
You  have  never  rebelled  against  me  before. 
I'll  put  you  under  the  power  of  spirits,  here 
and   now,    if   necessary." 

The  young  man  shrunk  against  the  pile  of 
ties  as  if  affrighted.  The  doctor  was  prompt  to 
go   on,    saying : 

"  Now  it  flashes  on  me  as  I  talk.  These  enthu- 
siastic fools,  my  countrymen,  will  see  years  of  this 
precious  heroism.  That  gives  me  time.  I,  mean- 
while, war  a  grander  crusade  against  disease — " 


190  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

"Don't  put  that  on  now,  father,  for  we  are 
alone." 

"  Meanwhile,"  the  doctor  continued  with  shame- 
less pretence,  "  I  become  the  philanthropist  of 
these  hills.  That  woman  —  the  mother,  I  mean 
—  will  become  an  inmate  of  my — excuse  me, 
our  —  institution.  With  becoming  gratitude  she 
may  remember  her  good  physician  in  her  will, 
if  she  drops  off.  Or,  if  she  is  in  our  house,  you 
see,  or  we  are  in  her  house,  any  earlier  pres- 
sure for  payments,  if  urged  by  relatives,  would 
not   effect   her.     You   see  ? " 

"But  this  only  heir,  the  wife  of  one  very 
fiery  man,  and  daughter-in-law  of  another  very 
determined   man,   father  }  " 

"Ah,  I  welcome  you  again  into  partnership. 
You  have  not  then  turned  quite  a  fool,  I 
see.  I  feared,  almost,  at  one  time  to-day  that 
you  might  enlist.  Think  that  over,  my  boy. 
Think  that  point  over,  about  the  young  woman. 
I  relegate  some  things  to  you.  Why,  boy,  I 
recognize  my   own   child    in   you   again." 

Erastus  was  glad  it  was  now  the  full  obscu- 
rity of  night,  else  those  sharp  eyes  must  have 
read  the  weary  disgust  which  unbent  for  a  mo- 
ment his  young  face.  The  thought  that  "a 
father    could    so    relentlessly    debauch      his     owe 


HERO  OR  PALTROON, 


191 


child.  He  would  make  me  as  much  his  child  in 
spirit  as  I  am  in  the  flesh.  Here  and  now,  then, 
I  must  close  my-  last  door  of  escape  back  to 
decency." 

Bnt    quickly    suspicious    at    the    son's    silence, 
the   sire  asked  abruptly ; 

**Do  you  see  your  way  clear  in  any  degree, 
my  son?** 

"It  is  a  perilous   road,   sir,"   very  gravely. 

"Not  perilous,  but  somewhat  ticklish.  You 
are  particularly  to  note  who  are  to  be  my  pa- 
trons. I  seek  religious  patronage,  as  I  always 
have.  All  derg)anen  will  be*  admitted  to  our 
establishment  upon  the  most  favorable,  —  indeed,  I 
may  say,  merely  nominal  terms.  We  shall  put 
ourselves  above  suspicion  by  the  cultivation  of 
the  most  proper  patronage,  as  I  said.  How  many, 
many  there  are,  in  these  great  cities  —  sit  down 
again,  Erastus,  and  I'll  tell  you  my  plans,  —  how 
many  world-weary  people  are  tired  of  the  hilar- 
ities of  the  world's  watering  places !  Ah,  me ! 
My  generous  purpose  shall  serve  ^them.  There 
shall  be  no  card -playing,  for  instance.  How  is 
that  for  a   card,    eh  ? " 

"That's   what    it    is,   father;    for  you  have    no 
conscience    about    the    game     of    cards,"     replied 
Erastus,  fairly   amused   by  the   suggestion  as  com 
ing  from  such  a  source. 


192  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"And,    then,    no   dancing   in   the   parlors." 

"  What  ? " 

Erastus  gave  one  short  laugh  in  spite  of  him- 
self. 

**Why,  no  dancing,  I  said.  We  will  put  a 
pipe  organ,  a  regular  church  music  affair,  into 
that  alcove  at  the  end  of  the  south  parlor.  I've 
arranged  it  all  in  mind,  you  see.  There'll  be  no 
dancing  to  such  music,  and  no  questions  asked. 
Not  a  piano  in  the  house,  sir,  nor  a  horn,  nor 
a  fiddle.     Then  I  will  be   saved   all  questions." 

"  But,  doctor,  where  did  you  get  all  these 
notions .?    These  are   not  your  sentiments." 

"  No ;  it's  other  people's  sentiments  I'm  con- 
sulting, at  four  dollars  a  day,  you  see.  Why, 
I  thought  you  knew  me  better.  But  I  forgot 
that  your  mother  has  had  the  handling  of  you, 
as  of  the  other  children.  I  now  take  you  into 
partnership ;    you   are   old   enough." 

This  hideous  process  of  a  child's  debauching 
was  not  offensive  to  the  old  man.  It  is  not  to 
the  very,  ver^  sharp  banker  who  initiates  his  son 
into  the  dubious  methods  of  the  house ;  nor  to 
the  unscrupulous  merchant  who  whispers  for  the 
first  time  the  questionable  secrets  of  the  trade 
to  his  son,  just  made  a  partner,  and  whose  ver- 
dant   honesty   must    be   checked    in    season ;    nor 


HERO   OR  PALTROON, 


193 


yet  to  the  decidedly  hard  manufacturer,  who  has 
read  in  his  son's  face,  for  a  year  past,  a  detec- 
tion of  paternal  extortions  and  methods  not  ac- 
cordant with  the  teachings  of  the  Sunday-school, 
and  which  the  father  thinks  best  now  to  con- 
fess without  defending.  Let  the  young  man  make 
the  most  of  it.  All  this  wretched  business  is 
familiar  in  certain  quarters.  A  bad  man  knows 
well  enough  when  his  child  detects  him ;  indeed, 
knew  all  along  that  the  child  would  sometime 
find  out  just  the  man  his  father  really  was.  A 
bad  man  accepts  this  shame  as  part  of  his  moral 
bankruptcy.  Frequently,  as  in  this  case,  he 
makes  a  desperate  virtue  of  necessity,  and  selects 
one  of  his  sons  as  his  successor,  relegating  the 
other  children  to  a  good  mother's  shaping.  The 
final  process  of  paternal  and  formal  initiation  is, 
however,   a  fearful   ordeal   to  th-e   child. 

"  Frankly    instructed   in  cold,   deliberate   selfish 
ness,  fraud,  stinginess,  greed   or  charlatanry,  —  and 
by  father!" 

Many  times  had  this  thought  broken  out  in 
audible   soliloquy  from   Erastus   Smiles'   lips. 

"  Promoted  to  be  father's  lieutenant  in  lying 
manoeuvres  and  mean  stratagems  for  other  men's 
hurt,   and   the   family's   enriching ! " 

And  that,   too,   not  in  the  vulgar  strata  of  Bax- 


194  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

ter  street,  but  in  the  best  circles  of  Murray 
Hill,  Beacon  Hill,  Chestnut  Hill,  and  other  Pala- 
tine hills,  done  by  hypocrites  who  give  in  church 
and  steal  by  the  million  on  change ;  who  bribe 
courts  and  purchase  legislators  ;  who  throw  a  sop 
to  a  college  and  hoodwink  the  good  men  of  the 
missionary  society;  and  who,  growing  weary,  wish 
a  confidant,  growing  old,  wish  a  successor, — 
—  and   take  one   of  their  sons. 

Fearful,  heart-breaking,  unendurable  induction 
this,  if  sudden,  —  which  it  generally  is  not,  the 
boy  having  had  his  suspicions  all  along.  Yet,  at 
the  best,  most  trying;  as  now,  to  Erastus 
Smiles,  whom  the  reader  would  not  have  judged 
exceeding   fine-grained. 

Indeed,  the  young  fellow  sunk  down  beside 
his  father,  in  the  gloom  of  night,  as  if  he  had 
fallen  into  a  bottomless  pit.  That  he  was  amused, 
was  his  salvation  that  he  did  not  go  mad;  and 
his  laughter  over  his  father's  hypocrisy  was 
moreover  the  sign  of  desperate  surrender  to  be 
an    evil-minded   man. 

"Yes,  Erastus,"  the  doctor  proceeded,  "no 
cards,   no  billiards,   no  dancing,   no   croquet  —  '* 

"Oh,   ho!" 

"No   smoking — " 

Erastus  shouted  till    the    echo  from    the    black 


HERO  OR  PALTROON. 


195 


depot  gable  flew  back  and  slapped  them  in  the 
face. 

"Then  I  suppose,  locking  the  office  door  at 
times,  you'll  lie  on  your  back,  dear  father,  on 
the  floor,  and  smoke  up  the  grate.  Why,  you 
inveterate   smoker,   you'll   die  !  " 

"  Erastus,  don't  be  a  fool !  It's  other  people's 
smoking  I'm  forbidding,  at  four  dollars  per  diem. 
Ah,  the  dear  patients  who  cannot  bear  smoking! 
I  entrap  you!  I  make  a  paradise  for  you.  We 
post  this  up  on  the  walls ;  we  print  it  in  cir- 
culars along  with  the  proper  specification  that 
no  guests  will  be  expected  to  arrive  or  depart 
on   the   Sabbath.'* 

Erastus  did  not  laugh  at  this  last.  He  hid 
his  face  in  his  hands.  The  father  knew  what 
was  in  the  boy's  mind.  It  was  the  picture  of 
mother,  a  gentle.  Christian  soul,  a  lover  of  "the 
Lord's^  day,"  of  whose  sacredness  she  was  ever 
whispering  to   her  children. 

"  And   no    liquors ! "    the    doctor    added. 

Then  turning  to  Erastus,  who  still  preserved 
his  bowed   silence,   he   asked : 

"What's  the  matter,  my  son?  Wouldn't  that 
please   her  ? " 

The   son  fairly  groaned. 

"Yes,  father;  that  is  her  line,  only  she  goes 
■o  much  beyond  in  her  preaching  1" 


196 


A    WEDDING  IN  IVAR'77ME. 


Then  turning  sharply  about,  the  son  put  his 
hand  on  his  father's  knee  and  added,  with  great 
fervency : 

"  Oh,  my  father,  is  not  she  a  noble  soul  ? 
Mother !  Why,  she  is  like  a  clean  sunbeam  fall- 
ing down  upon  a  mud  heap,  such  as  —  as  I 
am.  When  I  think  of  her,  sir,  I  know  there 
must  be  a  good  God  from  whom  she  came, 
and  a  pure  religion  of  the  Christ,  for  she  has 
it  in  .  her  soul ;  and  a  true  church  of  which  she 
at  least   is  a  member  — " 

**  Am  I  not  also  a  member  ? "  asked  this  man, 
imperturbably. 

"  Don't,  father !  Spare  me !  I  cannot  go  with 
you  any  further  to-night.  Why,  I  have  seen 
the  time,  sir,  when  I  have  given  a  boyish  blow  to 
the  fellow  who  charged  you  with  a  mercenary  use 
of  your  church  membership.  But  now  you  frankly 
number  it  among  your  assets  in  this  business  ! " 

"  Erastus,"  —  the  doctor  got  to  his  feet  and 
coolly  studied  his  watch  by  the  moon  mean- 
while,—  **  we  will  leave  it  all  till  after  we  have 
slept.  Why,  it  is  eleven  o'clock.  The  soldier-boy 
is  far  on  his  way.  You  will  get  courage  to  go  on 
your  way  by  the  morning.  Indeed,  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  getting  out  of  the  way,  child. 
You  and   I   are  partners." 


HERO  OR  PALTROON. 


197 


The  speaker  lighted  a  fresh  cigar,  and  walked 
on  by  the   young   man's   side  towards  the  hotel. 

"  Smoke  ? "   he   asked,    opening  his   case. 

**  No,    thank   you,    sir." 

Then   after    a    few    moments*    silence : 

**  Father,  do  you  know  how  sometimes,  by 
way  of — of — " — he  hardly  ventured  to  say  "con- 
trast," —  •*  of  memory,  I  suppose,  merely  to  men- 
tion  mother  controls  me  ?  What  I  mean  is,  for 
instance,  the  idea  of  a  cigar,  even,  which  she 
abominates,  seems  to  me  abominable.  Dancing, 
cards,  the  sanctity  of  Sabbath :  I  know  how 
conscientious  she  is  on  all  these  things;  she 
believes  they  hurt  and  dissuade  young  people 
from  the  practice  of  pure  religion  undefiled. 
Father!  Father!  Believe  me;  there  are  times 
when  her  gentle  purity,  so  linked  in  with  deeds 
of  pity  to  the  poor  and  charity  for  all  sinners, 
offers  a  blessed  tyranny  even  in  things  non-es- 
sential over  my  poor  soul  and  body,  I  would  to 
God  Almighty  I  were  such  a  son  as  she  would 
have   me  !  " 

Unbroken    silence   was   the   reply. 

"You  will  forgive  me,  sir,  if  I  grow  bold,*' 
resumed  the  son.  "  I  do  not  forget  that  you  are 
my  father,  and  as  long  as  a  child  lives,  she 
herself  has  taught  me  how  I  should  try  to 
honor  you." 


198  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"Try   to?" 

It  crackled  forth,  but  nothing  more  than  that 
echo. 

"Yes,  sir.  My  dear,  dear  sir.  May  I  say  this 
one  last  word,  that  I  have  never  said  before  ? 
Father,    stop!" 

They  came  to  a  pause  in  the   dark  roadway. 

"What  do  you  suppose  is  in  mother's  heart, 
as  her  God  reads  its  sadness,  when  she  thinks 
of  your   way   of   getting   a   living?" 

With   his   cold   smile : 

"  Erastus,  most  men  of  my  stripe  manage  to 
get   angels   for   wives." 

Erastus  caught  his  breath,  then  he  stammered 
out : 

"And   what   do   these  angels   do?" 

"They  enjoy  this  life  by  praying  for  our  safe 
and  eternal  continuance,  strange  to  say,"  puffing 
a   cloud   towards   the   clouds. 

"  Father !  " 

"Erastus,"  said  the  doctor,  laying  his  straight- 
ened arm  on  his  son's  shoulder  and  working 
the  fingers,  "  I  love  your  mother  devotedly.  I 
have  just  paid  fifteen  hundred  dollars  for  her 
new  coup6  lined  in  maroon  satin.  I  enjoy  im- 
agining how  she  will  look  in  it.  Good  night. 
Go  to  bed.     I'll  sit  down  and  finish  my  cigar." 


HERO  OR  PALTROON.  igg 

He  suited  action  to  words,  throwing  himself 
on  the  settee  of  the  hotel  veranda.  The  young 
man    went   to   his   room. 

"I  think  he'll  swing  into  line,"  ruminated  the 
doctor,  and  talking  to  the  shadows  of  the  sum- 
mer midnight.  "  I  think  so.  But  there's  more 
of  this  folly  which  is  called  manly  honor  to  the 
boy  than  I  supposed.  He  seems  to  be  chang- 
ing.  These  good  mothers !  there's  no  measure- 
ment to  their  influence.  They  grip  an  affection- 
ate boy  hard," 


2CX)  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


X. 

THE   BRIDE'S  CONFESSION. 

"\  ~\  THEN  Laura  Broon  awoke  the  next 
^  ^  morning,  her  eyes  wandered  around  the 
splendid  apartment  which  the  young  owner  had 
chosen  as  his  own.  The  windows  faced  the  sun- 
rise and  the  towering  masses  which  constitute 
Mt.  Washington.  In  a  chamber  upon  a  moun- 
tain -  top,  where  the  day  -  break  would  awaken 
a  sleeper  early  and  thoroughly,  you  would  say, 
yet  the  lady  seemed  to  herself  in  dream-land. 
She  gazed  hard  at  the  rifles  and  fishing-tackle 
in  one  corner,  at  the  long  riding  boots  in 
another  corner,  at  the  patent  bit  and  a  shoe  of 
a  favorite  mare  hung  over  the  gas-jet,  at  pic- 
tures of  her  husband's  gentlemen  friends  on  the 
mantle,  and  then  at  her  own  photograph  in  a 
place   of  honor. 

The  look  about  the  room  was  the  slow  dawn- 
ing of  the  new  life  which  the  young  girl  had 
now  entered  upon  and  must  try  to  realize.  The 
events  of  yesterday  were  but    a    confused    mass 


THE  BRIDE'S  CONFESSION.  201 

of  swift  memories.  That  sudden  telegram  at 
noon ;  the  hurried  robing;  for  a  soldier's  wedding ; 
the  fond  farewell  interview  with  her  husband 
on  the  veranda  below;  the  flight  down  the 
mountain  and  his  eager  patriotic  going  forth 
for  country,  all  in  half  a  transit  of  the  summer's 
sun. 

For  a  moment  or  two,  this  morning,  she  was 
almost  piqued  that  he  could  have  been  so  ardent 
for  country  as  to  choose  it  before  her.  Pres- 
ently, however,  she  saw  another  side  ot  the 
picture  and  began  to  feel  the  flush  of  patriotism 
herself  kindling  from  the  embers  of  yesterday. 
Then  she  fell  a  dreaming  about  her  lover- 
husband's  whereabouts  that  very  moment,  and, 
dwelling  on  his  truth  and  manliness  and  love 
for  her,  she  soon  got  the  temper  for  a  woman's 
"crying  spell,"  that   blessing   denied  to  man. 

Rising  now  and  dressing,  she  seemed  to  look 
the  New  Life  full  in  the  face,  as  she  saw  her- 
self arranging  her  hair  at  the  mirror  that  never 
reflected   her  face  before. 

*'It  was  curious,"  she  said  to  the  face  in 
the  mirror,  "that  Captain  Charles  should  have 
insisted  on  my  coming  into  this  room,  now, 
wasn't  it?  What  did  he  say  about  my  being 
mistress  of  the  establishment,   and  finding  all  the 


202  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

call-bells  here?  Yes,  there  they  are,"  and  she 
turned  her  about  to  read  the  names,  "  House- 
keeper," "Chambermaids,"  etc.,  written  over 
them. 

"  But  then,  I  know  they  were  never  used  yet. 
Mark's  mother  has  been  at  the  head  of  the 
house.     Why,    I'm  afraid   of  them." 

She  stepped  over  and  put  out  her  pretty 
fingers  towards  the  knobs  as  yet  never  used. 
Then  she  flew  back  again  to  her  winding  of  the 
long  thick  braids  of  her  hair  before  the  image 
of  the   New   Life  in   the  mirror. 

The  cheeks  of  the  New  Life  were  very  much 
flushed,  she  saw,  and  its  white  arms  trembled. 
Evidently  the  New  Life  was  deeply  concerned 
about   many  things.     She   spoke   to  it  again. 

"Very  curious,  or  very  old  fashioned,  was  it 
not,  that  the  old  captain  should  have  directed, 
so  matter-of-course,  that  I  was  to  be  shown 
to   Mark's   room? 

The  New   Life  nodded  its  head. 

"Or,  was  it  to  do  me  honor  beyond  measure, 
and  before   everyone,  at  the  very  beginning } " 

The  New  Life  put  its  hands  down  from  its 
head  and  again  assented. 

"  Or,  was  it  done  in  the  desperate  loneliness 
of  his  dear  old  heart,  that  couldn't  endure  the 
room  empty?" 


THE  BRIDE'S  CONFESSION. 


203 


The  New  Life  was  uncertain.  It  gazed  hard 
at  her,  and  its  eyes  began  to  fill  again  with 
tears;  its  hand  rapped  the  brush  sharply  on  the 
marble,   and   suddenly  with   energy  demanded  : 

"Are  you  his  wife?  Mark  Broon*s,  Captain 
Mark   Broon's   wife  ? " 

There  must  have  been  pretty  and  proud  as- 
sertion in  the  speaker's  face  as  she  stood  piercing 
the  New  Life  through  with  the  glances,  the 
tears  drying  in  the  gaze.  At  all  events  the  New 
Life  asserted  it. 

"Now  you  are  certain,"  after  a  little  she  re- 
sumed to  the  image,  her  toilet  having  received 
its  last  deliberate  touches,  "certain  that  there 
was  nothing  suspicious  in  Captain  Charles  sepa 
rating  Madge  Hardy  and  me,  asking  Madge  to  be 
a  good  daughter  to  mamma.?  Captain  Charles 
can  read  mamma:  he  can  read  anyone.  He 
would  not,  now,  would  he.?  Suppose  it  was  de- 
sirable to  prevent  collision  between  poor  foolish 
mamma,  inviting  that  bad  doctor  here,  and  me, 
his   son's   wife!" 

The  New  Life  was  greatly  troubled,  and 
seemed  to  recede  from  view  at  the  very  mention 
of  the  doctor's  name.  Laura  sat  down  by  her- 
self before  the  wide  windows.  The  silence  of 
the  great    house    indicated    late    slumber    on    the 


204  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

part  of  the  other  occupants.  She  came  to  a 
prompt  decision  upon  two  earliest  duties  with 
which  to  accompany  the  New  Life  down  stairs. 
She  would  first  seek  her  mother,  and  prevent 
absolutely  any  hospitality  to  Dr.  Smiles  and  his 
son.  She  would  go  frankly  to  her  husband's  father, 
and,  at  any  length  he  might  desire,  explain  all 
her  unfortunate  previous  association,  and  her 
mother's,  both  with  Erastus  Smiles  and  his 
father. 

Suiting  action  to  word,  Laura  resolutely 
marched  into  the  hall  and  towards  her  mother's 
chamber.  Upon  second  thought,  the  very  early 
hour  occurred  to  her,  and  she  consumed  the 
time  in  maturing  her  message  as  she  walked 
softly  back  and   forth. 

After  a  while  she  entered  Mrs.  Lane's  room, 
and  affectionately  saluting  her  cousin,  she  sat 
down  on  the  bed  beside  her  mother,  stroking 
her   forehead   and   beginning  very    resolutely  : 

"  Mamma  dear,  Eaglecroft,  which  is  now  my 
own  home,  you  know,"  —  and  she  had  to  stop 
right  here  to  shower  more  kisses  on  the  poor 
pale  face  —  **  Eaglecroft  air  is  better  for  you  than 
all  the  doctors.  You  will  be  dining  with  us, 
with  wonderful  appetite,  this  noon.  It's  real 
old  fashioned    dinner    at    mid-day.     But,   mamma, 


THE  BRIDE'S  CONFESSION,  205 

what  I  want  to  say  most,  and  must  say,  I,  the 
mistress  of  this  house," — and  she  laughed  prettily 
enough,  though  not  quite  naturally,  at  the  same 
time  pressing  her  forefinger  on  her  mother's 
chin,  and  asking,  "Why  don't  you  laugh,  mam- 
ma ?  —  I,  the  mistress  of  this  house,  wish  to  say 
that  Dr.  Smiles  must  not  come  over  the  "Wel- 
come" woven    on   the  front-hall    mat!    There!" 

She  was  a  good  mind  to  cry,  the  next  in- 
stant, at  the  thought  of  having  virtually  issued 
actual  and  peremptory  commands  to  her  mother; 
but  then  she  bethought  her  of  the  really  seri- 
ous import  of  the  whole  business,  and  concluded 
that  the   New   Life   mustn't   cry  here. 

To  her  inexpressible  relief,  Mrs.  Lane  instantly 
responded,   in  faint   tones : 

"Of  course  not,  my  dear  child.  I  fully  under- 
stand your  position,  and  am  not  so  foolish  as  to 
wreck,  or  even  imperil,  the  happiness  of  my  only 
child." 

A  perfect  surprise!  When  they  had  taken  a 
moment  to  realize  it,  the  enthusiasm  of  the  two 
young  girls,  the  merry  shout  of  Madge  Hardy 
as  she  danced  about  the  room,  the  radiant  grati- 
tude which  Laura's  overbending  face  poured 
down  on  her  mother,  drove  all  serious  business 
out  of    that  room  for  a  time. 


2o6  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

As  soon  as  she  could  get  a  hearing,  Mrs. 
Lane  added: 

"You  see,  girls,  that  I  freely  confess  to  a 
mystical  power  of  the  unseen  world  which  that 
man  is  always  able  to  exert  over  me  when  in 
his   presence.*' 

"But — but,  mamma  dear,  it  is  only  when  in 
his  presence,"  exclaimed  Laura.  "And  now, 
then,  when  he  attempts  to  call  to-day^  or  at 
any  time,  let  Captain  Broon  meet  him,  while 
we  excuse  ourselves.  What  care  we  if  it  seem 
rude.?  One  cannot  be  rude,  no  matter  how  per- 
emptory,   with   such   a   man." 

"  Such  a  man,  indeed ! "  put  in  Madge  Hardy. 
How  withering  can  a  delicate  and  refined  woman 
make  that  phrase.  ''Such  a  man!"  A  ton  trip- 
hammer could  not  more  surely  annihilate  the 
wretch. 

Laura  looked  her  thanks  to  her  pretty  cousin, 
and   promptly   resumed : 

"And  now,  little  mother,  I  must  refer  that 
question   of  the  borrowed   money — " 

"Hush!  Are  we  certain  that  we  loaned 
money.?     Actually  loaned   any?" 

The  widow's  gaze,  under  her  hand,  which  she 
placed  edgewise,  as  a  shield  above  her  peering 
eyes,     was     utterly     miserable     in    its     confusion. 


THE  BRIDE'S  CONFESSION.  207 


She  arched  her  neck  as  if,  through  the  open 
window,  seeking  to  descry  the  distant  farm^housf 
down   in   the   morning-flooded   valley. 

"The  fog  has  not  yet  lifted,  mamma,"  said 
Laura,  divining  her  mother's  thoughts.  "I  could 
not  see  the  old  home,  though  I  tried  as  soon 
as  I  awoke.  But  you  may  be  sure  it  is  stand- 
ing there.  He  has  not  stolen  it  yet.  And, 
mamma  dear,  if  you  cannot  quite  recollect  just 
what  we  said  and  did,  whether  we  signed  anj 
papers  or  not,  is  not  that  very  confusion  an 
added  reason  why  we  should  instantly  have  the 
help  of  a  clear,  strong  masculine  mind?  Men 
know   so   much   more  than   we   do." 

"Ah,  indeed,  you  charming  married  woman!" 
exclaimed   Madge   Hardy,   roguishly. 

"Well,  about  business,  men  do,  I  mean,"  re- 
plied Laura,  blushing.  "And,  Madge,  you  may 
as  well  know  all  about  it,  too,  this  entanglement 
of  ours;  the  more  who  know  such  dark  tricks 
the  better,"  which  had  the  effect  of  keeping 
the  chatterbox  quiet  for  a  moment,  though 
Laura  did  not  proceed  to  gratify  her  cousin's 
curiosity  at  once,  but  addressed  herself  anew  to 
the  task  of  convincing  her  mother  of  the  pro- 
priety and  need  of  confiding  in  Captain  Broon 
her  father-in-law. 


208  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"But  you  will  make  him  despise  me,  my 
child,"  the  elder  lady  protested.  "You  know 
what  an  orthodox  he  is.  Why,  the  very  thought 
of  these  strange  isms,  as  he  called  them  the 
other  evening,  you  remember,  nearly  made  the 
dear  old  gentleman  forget  his  manners.  And  I 
still  think  he  sullied  his  hospitaUty  a  little  in 
his  outbreak  over  my  simple  remark.  Haven't 
I,'*  and  she  actually  raised  herself  on  her  elbow, 
"as  good  a  right  to  my  religious  opinions  as  he 
has   to   his.?" 

"  Religious  opinions,  indeed ! "  thought  Madge 
Hardy,  her  kind  commiseration  showing  in  her 
face,    though   she   said   nothing. 

What  could  surpass  the  obdurate  contempt 
with  which  a  bred  -  in  -  the-bone  child  of  "  the 
standing  order,"  the  old  historic  Puritan  church 
of  New  England,  regarded  every  other  belief } 
Of  unreasoning,  yet  not  contrary  to  reason,  if 
uninquiring;  yet  received  on  ancient  testimony 
perfectly  proper  and  perfectly  secure,  the  faith 
of  the  Puritans.  Young  thing  that  she  was, 
Madge  Hardy's  great  eyes  seemed  to  reiter- 
ate  it : 

"Religious!  Anything  but  religious,  auntie,  we 
all   think ;   and   we   pity  you   so   much ! " 

"Please     don't     let's     debate,     mamma    dear," 


THE  BRIDE'S  CONFESSION^  209 

pleaded  Laura,  with  many  a  skilful  caress  of 
persuasion.  **'  At  all  events  a  new  departure  is 
open  for  me.  God  pity  me,  I  have  no  beliefs ; 
none  to  cast  off,  none  to  sincerely  take  on. 
No,  no,  mamma,  I  do  not  mean  to  upbraid 
you  for  my  rearing.  Only  I  can't  help  thinking 
that  my  blank  soul  would  offend  the  dear  cap- 
tain  as   much   as   your   contrary   opinions." 

Then  she  fell  into  silence  for  some  moments, 
thinking  on  the  second  and  perhaps  graver  part 
of  her  proposed  confession  to  her  husband's 
father. 

Meanwhile,  Madge  took  up  the  arguments 
with  the  invalid  as  to  "  letting  this  strong  old 
man  into  the  secret  of  all  business  troubles,  as 
u  good  auntie  ought  long  ago  to  have  done 
with   her   own   brother,   papa." 

Mrs.  Lane  made  no  reply  to  this  little  thrust ; 
but  catching  at  Laura's  hand  as  it  was  softly 
stroking  her  own,  while  its  owner  sat  so  long 
silent  and  dreaming  towards  the  open  window, 
she   suddenly   said  : 

•*Well,  Laura,  you  will  do  as  you  think  best 
as  to  the  business  part  of  our  problem.  But 
will  you  think  it  necessary  to  portray  your  mother 
and  yourself  as   such   rank   heretics  t " 

"I   am   determined    to    put     myself    just     right 


2IO  *A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

with   this   family,   mamma,"   was   the   softly   deter 
mined   reply. 

"But  is  the  trifle  of  your  religious  belief  of 
such  importance,  if  the  father  is  the  noble- 
hearted   man   you   all   say   he   is  ? " 

"Not  of  itself,  perhaps,"  replied  Laura,  "ex- 
cept in  these  times,  when  a  man  like  Mark's 
father  is  bending  like  my  great  maple  tree  in  a 
wind  storm,  with  emotion,  and,  as  I  believe,  is 
praying  to  his  God  in  every  other  breath,  for 
his  country  and  his  son,  his  only  child.  Why, 
Mark  told  me  that  his  father  gave  two  thou- 
sand dollars  towards  the  equipment  of  the  com- 
pany. He  is  utterly  unfitted  for  business.  He 
walked  the  veranda  last  night,  I  am  sure,  long 
after  we  were  in  bed.  His  eyes  fill  as  he  talks 
to  himself  over  the  newspapers.  Will  you  ever 
forget  that  prayer  of  his  last  night }  And  I, 
who  do  not  —  that  is,  I  fear  I  do  not  —  know 
how  to  pray  at  all,  feel  like  a  traitor  in  the 
house." 

"And  then,  again,"  Madge  ventured,  "the 
question  of  faith  is  no  trifle.  It  has  divided  a 
nation  before  now.  But  you  believe  all  right, 
Laura  dear ;  I'm  sure  you  do.  It  is  n't  as  if 
Mark  had   married   a   Roman   Catholic." 

"  Mark  and  his  father  respect   Catholics ! "    ex- 


THE  BRIDE'S  CONFESSION.  21I 

claimed  Laura.  "  I  have  occasion  to  know  that 
it  is  the  people  of  no  belief  whom  they 
de  — " 

'*  Despise  ? "  asked  Madge  with  a  little  spark 
in  her  tones,  for  Laura  had  spoken  positively. 
**No,  no.  Forgive  me.  We  will  not  have  a 
woman's  war  over  it.  But  you  are  not  that 
bad  kind.*' 

Then  she  put  her  arms  about  her  cousin's 
neck   and   continued : 

"I  see  how  it  all  is.  You  cannot  tell  about 
the  property  trouble,  I  suppose,  without  explain- 
ing how  you  came  to  be  associated  with  this 
doctor.  Well,  go  tell  it.  Tell  everything  that 
troubles  you.  There  never  was  a  truer  heart 
than  this  old  sea  dog,  as  he  calls  himself. 
Funny  name,  is  n't  it .?  Come,  here  it  is  time, 
almost,  for  the  mistress  of  the  house,  I  should 
say,  to  take  a  peep  below  stairs.  I  'm  not  going 
to  argue  this  question  longer.  Auntie,  we  must 
leave    Laura   to   do   as   she  thinks   best." 

"  Which  she  certainly  intends  to  do,  mamma 
dear,"  added  Laura,  impressively.  "  For  she  has 
this  new  life  to  live,  now,  the  truest  and  best 
way   she   can.      God   help  her  !  " 

She  arose  to  her  feet,  and  seemed  wonderfully 
imposing   in   her   quiet   resolution. 


212  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"  Say  that  often.  That 's  a  good  prayer,"  whis* 
pered   Madge. 

"That  is  my  tronble,"  responded  the  beauti- 
ful girl,  flushing  over  the  confession.  "  I  have 
not   said  it   a   dozen  times   in  as   many  years  ! " 

And  she  was  gone  from  the  room  instantly,  to 
avoid  further  reply  from  the  orthodox  maiden. 

It  was,  however,  not  till  after  breakfast  that 
Laura  found  Captain  Charles  alone.  He  was  sit- 
ting in  the  library,  opening  his  mail,  and  rose 
with   dignified   cordiality   to  meet  her,    saying : 

"  Good  morning,  my  child.  I  was  about  to 
send  for  you.  Here  is  a  telegram,  to  which  you 
have  the  first   right   now." 

He  said  that  difficult  word  bravely  and  sin- 
cerely—  than  which  parents  of  newly-wed  chil- 
dren find  no  harder  word,  "the  first  right 
now." 

She  read  it  eagerly  and  aloud.  It  briefly  told 
of  the  company's  safe  arrival  at  the  State  camp 
at  Brattleboro;  that  Mark  was  well  and  expected 
to  leave  for  "  the  seat  of  war "  within  forty- 
eight   hours. 

"  So  you  see,  my  dear,  that  disarranges  our 
plans  about  spending  a  few  days  with  him  in 
the  regimental  camp,"  promptly  remarked  Mr. 
Broon,   and   with    decided  disappointment. 


THE  BRIDE'S  CONFESSION,  213 

The  mere  mention  of  such  an  unexpected  pleas 
ure,  now  pronounced  impossible  in  the  same 
breath,  almost  disconcerted  the  young  wife.  But 
she  soon  got  courage  for  her  errand,  and,  after 
asking  if  he  had  an  hour  to  spare  her,  which  of 
course  he  had,  she  got  into  the  corner  of  the 
sofa  opposite  his  easy  chair  and  began  her 
story. 

At  first  he  gave  her  a  half-amused  and  half- 
puzzled  attention,  yet  the  very  soul  of  indulgent 
good-nature,  till  he  suddenly  shook  his  head 
laughingly,    and   interrupted   her   with : 

**But,  my  dear  girl,  it's  no  matter  about  this 
other  young  man  now.  You  are  not  the  first 
pretty  girl  that  has  sailed  out  o'  harbor  with  a 
fleet,  and  finally  took  one  for  consort.  Your 
Mark  is  no  jealous  fellow.  Ah,  the  dear 
boy ! " 

Then  her  task  grew  more  difficult.  But  with 
feathers  smoothed,  and  some  courage  yet  to  spare, 
she  went  on  to  portray  more  and  more  of  the 
strange  power  over  her  mother  that  "this  un- 
scrupulous  doctor"   seemed   to   exercise. 

"But  what's  that  to  da  with  you,  or  your 
mother,  now,  child } "  asked  the  captain,  leaning 
forward,  and  using  his  great  arm  like  a  sickle, 
a  favorite  gesture,  by  the  way,  with  him  when 
very  positive. 


214 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


She  plucked  at  the  fringe  on  the  arm  of  the 
sofa,   and   resumed : 

"As  a  downright  honest  woman,  sir,  I  should 
tell  you  of  a  miserable  scene  in  my  mother's 
house,  the  very  day  we  were  to  come  here;  a 
scene  fit  for  a  mad-house,  I  should  say ;  which 
my  husband  ought  to  have  known  about,  only 
there  was  no  time ;  yet  if  he  knew  it  —  if  you 
knew  it,  sir,  I'm  sure  you  would  regard  my 
mother  and  myself  with  the  utmost  contempt, 
unless   your   pity   softened   you." 

"This  is  very  serious  language,  my  dear 
woman." 

"  Under  the  influence  of  this  man,  my  mother 
thought   she   saw   my   dead   father  — " 

"What!    Heaven   help  my  old   ears!" 

"  And  there  was  a  paper  written  by  this 
man — " 

"Which  your  mother  was   asked  to  sign.?" 

"And  which  she  cannot  tell  whether  she  did 
sign   or  not." 

"Gracious!  Gracious!  And  which  it  don't 
matter  whether  she  signed  or  not,  under  such 
circumstances  ! " 

His  clenched  hand  fell  on  the  table  like  a 
load   of  rock. 

"  Oh,  do  you  indeed  say  so,  sir  i  '  eagerly  re- 
sponded  Laura. 


THE  BRIDE'S  CONFESSION. 


215 


He  looked  gravely  round  on  her,  from  his  sav- 
age glare  at  the  book-cases,  and  remarked  piti- 
fully : 

**  And  does  that  assurance  concerning  your 
property  afford  you  such  relief  ? " 

Wait  a  bit,  young  Mrs.  Broon.  You  cannot 
afford  to  tangle  the  skein  further,  by  indulging 
indignation.     Hence,  softly  and  with  self-control : 

"And  is  it  not  something,  sir,  to  know  that, 
with  all  the  rest  of  this  bad  business,  my  hus- 
band is  not  to  be  obliged  to  support  my  pen- 
niless  mother.?" 

"Why,  yes,  child.  Yes,  you  are  right,  I  see. 
Yet  the  thought  of  that  vulgar  preacher  of  some 
horrid  nonsense  winding  his  coils  round  my  — 
but  I'm  selfish  in  that.  How  I  loathe  this  sort 
of  people,  for  your  dear  sake  as  much  as  mine 
and  my   son's." 

"  I  know  you  do,  sir.  Believe  me,  I  know  it. 
And  so  do  I  loathe  them  !  Yet  think  how 
wretched  is  a  poor  young  wife's  dilemma.  It  is 
my  own  mother  who  has  become  involved  in  this 
wild  folly  on  one  hand.  On  the  other  hand  is 
my  husband  of  a  day,  whose  love  for  me  must 
have  somehow  made  me  seem  just  a  little 
worthy  of  him ;  he  is  snatched  far  away  from 
me,  and  I   must   try    to  —  try  to  win   my    place 


2l6  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIM B 

in   this   house,    through  you,  sir,    in   whom   I   coI^ 
fide." 

"  Confide  ?  "  he  replied  with  a  look  of  alarm. 
"Yet  no  one  ever  asked  to  confide  in  Charles 
Broon  and  was  turned  away,"  he  continued  softly 
and  thinking  aloud,  "or  was  betrayed  in  his 
confidences,"  with  the  heavy  fist  striking  the 
table,  "only  —  " 

Silence. 

"  Only  it  seems  shocking  to  you,  sir,  that  a 
wife  of  another  man,  and  that  man  your  idolized 
son,  should  need  to  impart  unpleasant  confidences 
to  you." 

"Why,  yes,  my  dear  woman;  I  think  all  this 
should  have  been  arranged  between  you  and  your 
husband." 

"  But   it   was   a  time   of  war,    sir." 

"Yes,  yes;  and  you  wanted  to  make   sure — " 

"  Sir  !  " 

She  was  on  her  feet.  She  flushed  and  throbbed. 
Her  trembling  limbs  almost  took  the  fatal  first 
steps  of  flight.  But  there  was  such  a  look  of 
pain  on  his  massive  features,  and  there  was  such 
a  pathless  wilderness  stretching  out  before  her 
if  she  really  did  take  those  first  steps  that, 
standing,    she   almost    sobbed    it  : 

"You  do  not,  cannot  blame  a  woman  for  try- 
ing to  gain  one   she  loved." 


THE  BRIDE'S  CONFESSION.  217 


He  got  out  of  his  chair  and  took  her  two 
hands,    exclaiming   fervently : 

"Why,  no,  child,  I  believe  you.  Who  could 
help  loving  him?  There,  there!  Let  it  all  go 
now.  It's  not  necessary  to  show  your  log  to 
me.  You  and  Mark  can  sail  your  own  craft. 
Say  you   forgive   me.     There!" 

"If  you  would  only  take  me  to  him,  sir," 
she   added,    with   unspeakable   distress. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know,  I  know.  You  carry  lots 
of  canvas,  pretty  one,"  holding  her  off  and  ad- 
miring her,  with  returning  confidence  beginning 
to  beam  in  his  face.  "Take  you?  Would  God 
I  could !  Who  could  deny  you  ?  I  will,  I  will  I 
So  there!  Now  you  just  keep  within  hailing 
distance  of  the  mercy  seat  of  Heaven  till  we 
see  the  dear  boy.  Indeed,  we  must  see  him  be- 
fore he  goes  into  battle.  Sit  down  now  and 
tell  me.  Your  mother  has  some  property  be- 
sides  the   farm,   you   said." 

But  the  storm  could  not  clear  so  abruptly  as 
that.  Men  of  affairs  are  self-controlled  by  long 
training.  Not  so  our  dear  women.  Sometimes 
it  seems  as  if  it  would  take  forever  and  a  day 
for  the  sun  to  break  through  again  after  an 
hour  of  woman's   weeping. 

Laura     resumed     her    seat,     to     be     sure;     but 


2l8  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


there  was  now  a  perfect  storm  of  tears  behind 
the  handkerchief,  and  sobs  that  to  most  good 
men  are  simply  alarming.  Captain  Charles  was 
thoroughly  alarmed  for  her;  he  believed  her 
heart  would  break;  he  was  certain  he  had  killed 
her.  You  see  he  had  never  had  a  daughter  of 
his  own.  As  for  the  two  good  women,  his  wives, 
only  ten  days  in  port,  once  in  two  months, 
they  were  an  Elysium  dream  to  the  sailor ; 
all  his  life  long,  till  he  began  "stopping  ashore," 
he  felt  himself  a  cruel  affliction  on  the  happi- 
ness of  women  and  children  by  the  anxiety 
which  he  inflicted  on  them  while  at  sea.  He 
often  used  to  wonder  how  they  ever  could  for- 
give  him   and   indulge   him   so  when  at   home. 

"Oh,  you  women!"  he  exclaimed,  helplessly. 
"God  bless  you.  You  are  too  good  for  us 
rough  men.  I  shall  never  get  your  bearin's. 
Come,  now.  It's  a  stern  chase  with  my  old 
heart,  but  I  love  the  beautiful  girl.  God  knows 
I   only  live   to  make  ye   all  happy." 

This  was  too  much.  Down  came  the  hand- 
kerchief promptly.  She  sprung  at  his  last  ques- 
tion instantly,  and  resumed  her  purpose  to  con- 
fide  all   to  him. 

"Yes,  we  have  about  twenty-five  thousand 
dollars.     Squire   Lecey  in  the  village    has    gener- 


THE  BRIDE'S  CONFESSION,  219 

ally  managed  the  business  where  mamma  could 
not." 

"I'll  see  the  square,  and  block  the  fraud," 
said  the  captain,  with  a  tone  of  measureless  re- 
lief, turning  to  business,  writing  the  name  and 
making  the  memorandum  of  his  plan  at  once. 
"And  it  could  not  honestly  have  been  more 
than  a  check  for  payment  for  professional  ser- 
vices,"  he   wrote  on,   speaking  his   plan  aloud. 

Suddenly  it  flashed  upon  the  young  woman 
again  that  she  had  only  begun  her  story.  She 
burst   out  with: 

"Why,  Captain,  the  man  has  been  trying  to 
enlist  mamma  in  his  great  curative  establishment, 
and  perhaps — " 

"Perhaps  has  got  a  big  subscription  from  her," 
growled   the  writer,   glancing   up. 

"Indeed,  I  fear  that  is  just  it.  How  quickly 
you  see  it  all.  Yes,  the  man  has  been  admiring 
the  farm—" 

"And  has  got  her  to  deed  it  to  him  for  the 
infernal  institution!"  shouted  the  captain,  the 
right   arm   swinging  like  a  scythe   now. 

He  looked  the  startled  girl  full  in  the  face 
for  a  moment  with  a  blank  stare.  Then  a  cloud 
of  disgust  began  unmistakably  to  return  over  his 
features,  as  the  complexity  of  the  possible  situ- 
ation dawned  more  fully  on  him. 


220  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

*' Thick  weather!  Nasty,  thick  weather!  And 
right  here  in  port,  too !  Aground  in  the  har- 
bor!" 

"What   do   you   mean?"    she   asked   timidly. 

"Why,  to  think  of  my  son's  wife  bein'  in- 
volved in  such  a  mess.  The  lyin'  hypocrite 
alongside  here,  right  down  in  the  valley,"  he 
answered,   thoughtfully   studying   the   carpet. 

I  admire  this  young  girl  just  here:  that  she 
did  not  again  resent  his  remarks ;  that  she  read 
him  with  a  woman's  intuition,  and  knew  that 
he  was  kinder  than  his  words;  that  she  set  it 
all  down  in  the  account  of  the  old  man's  life- 
long offence  at  sight  of  fraud  and  religious  pre- 
tense; that  she  even  envied  him  his  religious  re- 
spectability, in  contrast  with  her  own  hap-hazard 
training.  I  admire  her  that  she  did  not  dash 
all  her  hopes  and  theirs  to  the  ground,  wreck 
her  possible  happiness  and  theirs,  here  and  now, 
and  dislike  this  man,  leave  the  house  and  go  to 
ruin. 

She  might  have  done  all  this  two  days  be- 
fore. But  that  marriage  ceremony  is  a  mighty 
thing.  ,  It  chains  one.  One  is  careful  now. 
One   must   get   through   this. 

With  no  little  self-possession  and  self-respect 
in   her  tone: 


THE  BRIDE'S  CONFESSION.  22 1 


"But  you  will  shield  us,  sir.  It  is  a  woman's 
right   to   ask   that   of  a   strong,   true   man." 

He  turned  sharply  away  and  walked  to  the 
window.  He  stood  there  some  seconds,  that 
seemed  hours,  then  walking  heavily  back  to  his 
seat,  he  answered  her: 

"  I  will !  But  your  mother  must  never  see  that 
man   again.*' 

"  She   shall   not !  "    answered   Laura. 

"And   as   for  yourself,  my  dear   woman  — " 

How  persistently  he  called  her  "woman"  in  the 
gravity  of  his  address;  and  she  seemed  to  her- 
self to  grow  older  and  more  courageous  with  its 
every   utterance. 

"You  will  see  the  propriety  of  imparting  every- 
thing  'bout  this  young  Smiles  to  your  hus- 
band." 

"Would  that  I  was  in  a  wife's  shelter,  her 
husband's   presence ! " 

"Right!    But   it's  war-times.     So  write  him." 

"There's  nothing  to  write  on  that  score. 
Dear  Mark  knows  that  I  repudiated  the  professed 
and   boasted   engagement   with    Erastus   Smiles" 

She  had  said  it!  In  a  moment  she  both  re- 
gretted  and   approved   of   the   remark. 

"Engagement.?  Boasted.?  Heaven  have  mercy! 
You  don't  say  that  this  chap  thought  he  had 
any  claims   on  you?" 


222  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIMR. 

Poor  old  man.  Your  good  years  have  been  too 
many  since  you  were  a  boy.  You  are  becoming 
terribly  involved  in  the  effort  to  play  the  part 
of  your  son,  the  young  husband  of  this  per- 
plexed young  creature.  And  your  pride  of  family, 
however  admirable  in  its  place — how  carefully 
you  reared  the  boy,  God  knows,  and  how  noble 
your  ambition  for  him, — may  be  just  in  your  way 
now,  turning  to  your  walk  again,  face  purpling 
and   heart   heavily   beating. 

Her  girlish  wit  showed  her  the  absurdity  of 
allowing  the  dear  gentlemen  to  engage  by  proxy 
in  a  matter  of  love's  jealousy,  and  she  smilingly 
remarked  : 

"But  you  made  light  of  all  that,  sir,  a  mo- 
ment ago,  saying  something  about  young  people 
walking   down   the   harbor  in   a  fleet." 

"  Walking  down  the  harbor  ?  Sailing,  child.  I 
said  *  sailing.'     Yes,  yes." 

And   he  got   a   rough   smile  on. 

"  You  are  right.  Only  let 's  just  leave  those 
people  absolutely  to  themselves.  Or,  rather,  leave 
them  to  me.  There,  there!  I'll  defend  you  and 
your  property.  I  'm  an  old  bungler,  anyway,  in 
young  people's  affairs.  You  just  keep  on  your 
present  tack.  We'll  overhaul  our  boy,  down  in 
Washington,  by  next  week,  as  I  promised  you. 
Here,  kiss  me,  my  daughter." 


THE  BRIDE'S  CONFESSION.  223 


Which  she  did,  rising  to  meet  him,  and  walk- 
ing now  with  him  across  the  room.  He  contin- 
ued to  talk.  He  would  "put  all  this  matter  in 
the  hands  of  his  attorney.  They  would  shut  the 
house  up  here.  Mrs.  Lane  should"  accompany 
them  to  New  York,  at  all  events."  And  now  if 
Laura  "  would  but  trust  in  God,  all  would  soon 
come   out  well." 

"Trust   in   God?" 

Several  times,  as  they  crossed  the  room,  her 
lips  silently  repeated  those  words.  As  they 
passed  out  to  the  veranda,  she  still  turned  that 
expression  over  in  her  thoughts,  as  the  old  man 
fell  to  relating  incidents  of  his  boy's  youth  and 
rattled  on  in  doting  biography.  She  was  inter- 
ested of  course;  and  of  course  he  knew  that 
she  was  interested.  Father  and  bride  commun- 
ing of  absent  son  and  husband.  Yet,  perhaps, 
he  noticed  that  she  was  abstracted  too;  for  after 
a  while  he  paused,  seating  himself  on  the  rail 
and  looking  away  to  the  southward,  over  the 
dim,   blue   mountains,  and   exclaimed: 

"God  keep  him!  God  keep  him!  In  times 
like  these,  how  could  a  father  live  without  a 
trust  in   God!" 

Transparent  face  of  hers.  Silent  lips  of  hers 
Tearful  eyes  of  hers.     He  saw  something,  at  least, 


224  ^    WEDDING  IN   WAR-TIME. 

in  these  tokens,  and  asked  her  the  question,  or 
she  would  not  have  ventured  to  load  an  added 
burden   on   to   his   faith   in   her. 

"You  pray,    daughter,    don't   you?" 

She  had  never  loved  him  so  well,  nor  feared 
him  so  much,  till  that  question,  asked  in  deep 
and   tender   tones. 

**  I   wish   I   did !  "    she   answered. 

"Is  it  possible ? "  the  old  man  remarked,  re- 
flectively, gazing  on  her  sweet  and  downcast  face, 
the  tears  starting  through  her  long  lashes  and 
wetting  her  cheeks.  "Is  it  possible,  my  poor, 
dear  one  !  " 

And  he  grew  calmer  in  his  honest  piJty  with 
every  breath.  The  nervous  unrest  under  which 
he  had  been  suffering  through  all  their  interview 
instantly  gave  way  to  a  deep  repose.  He  had 
forgotten  himself,  forgotten  his  son,  forgotten  his 
country,  all  in  a  moment,  the  grand  old  Chris- 
tian, at  sight  of  this  beautiful  young  girl,  moan- 
ing out  that  touching  wish  which  was  so  pitiful 
a   confession. 

"Yes,  it  is  possible;  for  I — I  have  no  be- 
liefs  whatever,    sir !  " 

She  spoke  it  so  desperately,  as  if  all  her 
hopes  died  in  the  words.  She  had  not  dared  td 
look    him   in    the   face    before;    but    her    despaii 


THE  BRIDE'S  CONFESSION, 


225 


gave  her  the  will  now.  She  expected  to  see 
such  rocky  frowns  as  would  best  be  met  by,  at 
least,  the  stare  of  self-assertion ;  then  she  would 
leave  him,  and  ieave  this  home  where  she  was 
such  a  strangeling,  with  only  a  face  which  these 
people  could  admire.  Leave,  at  least,  this  man, 
and  go  find  the  other  man,  if  her  two  weary 
feet   could  trace  him   to  the  world's   end. 

But  she  met  so  benign  a  look,  so  tender,  so 
deep  in  its  love,  a  love  richer  than  that  same 
old  face  had  ever  yet  worn  for  her.  His  gray 
eyes  were  swimming  too.  His  lips  moved  with- 
out speaking.  His  bronzed  cheeks  were  softly 
flushed  and  eloquent  with  a  transforming  wel- 
come. She  gazed  on  him  a  moment,  then  flew 
into  his  arms,  kissing  his  checks,  then  hiding 
her  head  on  his  wide  shoulder.  She  was  now 
sobbing   convulsively. 

*;  Oh,  God !  The  great,  good  God.  There  -— 
there  is  —  a   God  to   hear  me,   is  there  not  ? " 

"My  darling,  yes,  yes,  indeed  there  is  a  God." 
He  held  her  closely.  He  could  only  clear  his 
throat  and  rub  his  great  hand,  the  free  one, 
across  his  eyes,  as  yet.  "  I  guess  —  hem!  —  I 
guess  we  have  found  this  little  bird  —  hem!  —  in, 
season.  I  guess  so.  Heaven  help  us.  We'll 
save  her  from  the  hawks.  Yes,  we  will.  There, 
there  I'* 


226  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

He  soothed  her  as  if  she  were  an  infant,  and 
as  if  it  gave  him  joy  to  do  it.  He  seemed  to 
know  that  all  the  excitement  of  not  only  many 
hours,  but  months,  indeed,  was  finding  now  re- 
lief. A  woman  could  not  have  comforted  her 
with  such  a  bosom.  Her  mother,  surely,  never 
had  so  comforted  her;  her  own  father  she  had 
missed  so  long ;  her  husband  —  it  was  as  if  she 
had  none,  in  that  time  of  war.  How  she  clung 
to   this   manly  breast ! 

"  We  have  run  foul  of  a  very  different  trouble 
now,  daughter,"  he  said.  ''  But  this  trouble  is 
so  easily  cured.  Yes,  yes,  so  easily.  Not  like 
the  other,  wherein  bad  men  are  the  cause.  This 
is  all  between  the  great  Captain  above  and  you. 
Yes,  yes.  Softly  now.  That's  the  trim  of  sail 
to  find  him.  I  mean  a  broken  and  a  contrite 
heart.  He  *11  meet  you  more  than  half  way.  He 
is  meeting  you  now ;  the  good  God.  You  are 
very  dear  to  him.  You  are  praying  now.  Just 
tell  him  all  that's  in  your  heart,  all  you  want 
to  ask  or  know,  or  need  on  board ;  he  '11  fill 
you.  This  is  all  beautiful  to  me,  I  am  smiling 
down  on  the  top  of  your  woman's  head,  here, 
as  if  it  were  a  child's  head ;  smiling,  not  be- 
cause I  am  heartless  over  your  distress,  but 
because   I   know   that   such    distress  leads  to  infi- 


THE  BRIDE'S  CONFESSION, 


227 


nite  repose.  I'd  tack  out  o'  my  course,  any  day 
to  see  and  help  a  poor  soul  penitently  askin'  the 
way   to   God.     There,   there ! " 

And  he  stroked  her  wavy  hair  with  his  big 
forefinger,  along  the  blueish  white  parting  of  the 
locks,  while  she  rested  from  her  anguish,  and 
grew   tranquil  with   a  great  and   ineffable  peace. 

At  last  she  looked  up  into  his  face,  beaming 
on   him,   and   saying : 

"  I  think  I  can  believe,  and  pray  to  your 
God.  He  i^  mine !  And,  oh,  sir,  how  differ- 
ently has  this  interview  ended  from  what  I 
feared." 

With  which  she  straightened  up,  and  moved 
away  from   his   embrace. 

"Don't  forget,  then,  my  child,  how  we  can 
best  defend  the  boy.  All  we  can  do  is  to  pray 
for  him." 

"I  shall  not  forget  that,  to  me,  the  best  use 
of  my   new  found   power." 

She  threw  this  back  to  him,  as  she  halted  a 
moment  on  the  threshold.  She  then  sought  her 
room,   as   fast   as   her   feet   could   carry  her. 

The  oli  man  sat  long  on  the  rail  of  the  ve 
randa,  meditating  on  all  that  had  occurred.  After 
a  good  deed  the  world  always  looks  pleasant  for 
a    while,    and    sometimes,    for    a     brief    interval, 


228  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

brightly  beautiful.  The  old  captain's  world,  not- 
withstanding the  cloud  of  war,  for  the  moment 
seemed  as  beautiful  as  the  glorious  landscape 
before  him,  over  which  the  advancing  sunrise 
was   so   grandly   marching. 

His  rugged  common  sense  saw,  on  the  one 
hand,  certain  serpents  to  be  trodden  into  the 
dust  ;  on  the  other  hand,  certain  doves  to  be 
caressed,  loved,  and  protected.  His  way  was 
plain  enough.  Probably  not  a  single  dark  suspi- 
cion foreshadowed  itself.  He  rendered,  at  that 
moment,  his  implicit  confidence  to  his  son's  bride, 
concerning  whom  he  entertained,  but  that  tender 
solicitude — oh,  exquisite  thrill  of  care  —  that  she 
should   ripen  into  a  full   believer  in  due  time. 


TO  ENUST  OR  NOT  TO  ENLIST.  229 


XI. 

TO   ENLIST  OR  NOT  TO   ENLIST. 

"1  >UT  those  days  were  like  no  previous  days 
that  we  living  men  and  women  had  ever 
seen.  It  was  remarked,  that  summer,  that  day 
after  day  the  haymakers  greeted  the  brilliant 
mornings  with  firm  hope  that  at  last  this 
"ketchin*  weather"  was  over,  and  the  sunlight 
would  continue  from  its  rising  to  its  setting; 
and  great  fields  were  "downed"  by  the  clatter- 
ing mowers,  yet  only  to  be  shadowed  by  mid- 
afternoon  with  the  black  clouds  that  drenched 
and  spoiled  the  crop;  while  scores  of  lusty  toil- 
ers turned  to  idle  waiting  under  shelter,  or 
"tinkerin*"   at   fuss)''  odds   and   ends. 

There  was  scarce  a  farm  where  the  odds  and 
ends  were  not  all  done  and  more,  while  the 
noble  fields  were  left  undone.  Every  man's 
work  was  greatly  changed  about;  nothing  in  its 
right  proportions.  For  instance,  such  an  amount 
of  "goin*  to  the  post-office,"  usually  a  mere  in- 
cident  of  the   rural    Saturday   night,   but    now  al 


230 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


most  a  daily  doing.  And  such  sitting  about  the 
steps  of  the  village  store,  hearing  the  latest 
news.  Such  a  quantity  of  time  with  pen  and 
ink,  and  less  with  the  cheese,  poor  old  mother 
of  the  boy  at  the  wars,  doing  better  work  with 
your  cramped  fingers  driving  the  pen,  than  in 
the  milk-room  those  fingers  ever  did,  for  now 
they  were  on  the  heart  strings  of  a  nation.  Such 
a  disproportion  between  the  proper  reading  of  the 
Herald  of  Zion^  ancient  advocate  of  orthodoxy 
in  the  family,  and  those  all-absorbing  city  papers 
full   of   war,   war,    war! 

Ah,  everything  out  of  ratio.  Less  sleep  and 
more  reading  and  thinking.  Less  the  price  of 
butter  and  eggs,  of  calves  and  colts,  oh,  bless 
you,  very  much  less  of  calculating  these  things 
at  the  first, — though  it  must  be  confessed  we 
got  back  to  the  notice  of  such  trifles  again  by- 
and-by,  being  human,  and  having  year  after  year 
of  this,  with  eggs,  et  ceteray  very  high  for  specu- 
lation,— but  at  first  the  old  farm  itself,  and  all 
that  it  grew,  seemed  infinitely  small,  while  we 
saw  great  movements  of  a  great  age,  and  our 
sons   the  brave  actors ! 

We  grew  manly  and  womanly  in  spite  of  our- 
selves. We  forgot  to  gossip  about  our  neigh- 
bors,  or    to  quarrel   over   line  fences ;    forgot    the 


TO  ENLIST  OR  NOT  TO  ENLIST, 


231 


everlasting  battle  of  the  doxies  in  the  great 
unity  of  the  orthodoxy  of  the  Union.  We  ceased 
to  throw  proof  texts  at  each  other,  and  took 
the  time  for  prayer.  We  saw  beyond  our  farm, 
beyond  our  "school  deestrick,"  over  the  horizon 
beyond  our  village  and  state.  We  saw  the  blue 
sea  that  lies  about  our  land's  three  coasts ;  we, 
who  never  saw  salt  water  before,  saw  the  whole 
broad  sea-embraced  homestead,  and  began  to 
claim  it  all.  We  saw  more,  too ;  the  faces  of 
the  wide  world  turned  towards  us  as  in  staring, 
curious  gaze.  No  wonder  things  got  out  of  pro- 
portion ;  nay,  into  true  and  nobler  proportion. 
The  war  was  a  college  course  to   us. 

And  it  was  no  wonder  that  Capt.  Charles 
Broon  saw  things  in  a  different  light,  a  few 
hours  later,  when  the  afternoon  papers  came  up 
in  a  cloud  to  Eaglecroft.  That  earlier  view 
from  the  library  was  not  this  later  view  from 
the  veranda.  No  more  were  the  thoughts  of 
the   one   hour   the   thoughts   of   the   later  hour. 

"  Look  you,  child,"  exclaimed  Captain  Charles, 
his  broad  face  fiery  red  with  the  excitement  of 
his    reading.     "  Look    you !  " 

And  he  first  held  out  to  her  and  then  re- 
claimed  paper  after  paper. 

"We  have  been  terribly  defeated,  child.  Whjr, 
the  rascals  are  almost  in   Washington!" 


232  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

■ II  '< 

But  Laura  yet  saw  things  in  the  old  propor- 
tion. Her  domestic  troubles,  the  piques  and 
prides  of  social  life,  the  jealousies  of  lovers, 
and  the  theme  of  the  morning.  She  had  come 
expecting  these  to  receive  new  attention;  and 
she  had  expected  to  hear  the  ripe  conclusion  of 
her  father-in-law's  deliberations  on  them.  So  she 
stood  prettily  nonplussed  by  this  explosion  about 
Washington. 

He  saw  it,   and   resumed  heartily: 

"Why,  Laura,  there's  only  one  thing  goin'  on 
in  the  world  to-day.  That's  our  war.  That  lit- 
tle affair  —  the  idea  !  —  of  which  we  were  speak- 
in*  this  morning,  that  is  all  right.  Everything 
is   all   right   but   this   accursed   war." 

"  But,  father,  if  those  two  men  pursue  us  up 
here  to-day?" 

"Child   alive!" 

He  hooked  his  great  right  arm  as  he 
spoke. 

"The  man  will  not  come!  Why,  he'll  be  ofif 
to  the  wars  himself  before  the  week  is  over. 
Nobody  can  resist.  Too  old.?  Well,  the  son  is 
not.  He  is  an  American.  How  can  he  stay  at 
home.?    Child,  I'm   going   myself!" 

"You!   Captain   Broon.?" 

Her  blue  eyes  opened  so  wide   that  he  laughed 


TO  ENLIST  OR  NOT  TO  ENLIST.  233 

in  spite  of  the  passion  of  patriotism  which  was 
on   him. 

"  Yes  ;  I'm  going  to  sound  my  way  along  after 
my  boy.  My  heart !  I  must  see  him !  Would 
you   like   to   go   with   me^  to   Washington  ?  '* 

She  flew  into  his  old  arms  so  swiftly  that  he 
almost  had  one  of  his  recently  alarming  strug- 
gles for  breath.  She  put  her  soft,  hot  cheek 
against  his  hard,  hot  cheek.  She  managed  to 
say   it : 

"And  do  you  think  we  could  —  could  see  him 
all  alone  by  himself,  papa" —  she  substituted  this 
title  for  father  since  morning — "for  just  a  little.? 
Really  .?  " 

"  Why,  daughter,  yes  !  What  a  question  !  But, 
to  be  sure,  I  keep  forgetting  that  you  have 
never  had  a  full  day  of  your  husband.  Yes, 
yes,  we  will.  We'll  have  him  up  at  our  hotel 
of  course.  But  if  I  were  you,  I  'd  never  whis- 
per to  him  any  of  these  troubles.  You'll  never 
see   the   Smiles   crew   again." 

"But  are  you  sure  we  can  really  have  Mark 
to  ourselves } "  she  resumed.  "  He  will  be  in 
such  an  ocean  of  men.  Oh,  I  cannot  endure  it 
again,  just  to  see  him  for  a  parting!  To  see 
him  with  no  time  nor  place  to  say  what  is  in 
my   heart ;    to   see   him   with    my   heart   so  full  of 


234  -^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

himself  and  myself,  but  his  heart  so  full  of  — 
of  the  country  there.  Please  forgive  me  if  that's 
a  wicked  speech.  If  I  could  only  follow  him, 
and,  finding  him,  say,  *Come ! '  and  he  would  step 
out  of  that  ocean  of  men  and  walk  away  with 
me  where  I  could  tell  him  what  I  ought  to 
have  told  before  ;  and  we  could  sit  together  and 
—  and  — ;  but  to  see  my  husband  in  the  crowded 
streets  or  camps,  under  so  many  eyes  and  then, 
at  a  sharp  command,  why,  he  marches  away  from 
me  as  if  —  as  if  I  was  nobody,  and  the  country 
was  everything !  There,  again  I  Ve  said  it !  No 
doubt  you  think  me  very  selfish.  May  not  a 
bride  be  selfish  of  her  husband }  I  tell  you,  papa, 
I   will   not   go   through   that   agony   again." 

•'  Hush,  child,"  the  old  man  responded,  husk- 
ily. "I  know.  He  is  yours,  and  yet  not  yours. 
So  he  is  mine,  and  yet  not  mine.  It  is  the 
times ;  God  does  not  so  ordain  for  a  bride  and 
her  husband,  nor  for  father  and  son.  He 
should  be  alongside  us  now  but  for  man's 
wrath.  But  I'll  take  you  to  him,  I  will  !  I 
will !  Meanwhile  think  how  many  other  women 
are   left   on   the   love   tack,   like   yourself." 

Full  of  the  purpose  now  beginning  to  take 
definite  shape,  the  two  went  in  search  of  the 
other    members    of    the    household,    in    order    to 


TO  ENLIST  OR  NOT  TO  ENLIST  235 

make  arrangements   for  breaking   up  the  establish- 
ment at   Eaglecroft. 

Probably  they  would  not  return  here  again  dur- 
ing the  season.  The  captain  went  on  to  plan 
it  that,  after  they  should  have  returned  from 
Washington,  they  would  run  down  to  the  sea- 
shore for  a  few  weeks,  and  then  it  would  be 
time  to  reopen  the  city  house  in  New  York. 
They  would  feel  a  little  nearer  to  Mark,  too,  he 
thought,  in  New  York  than  away  up  here  in  the 
country.  Besides,  everything  up  here  reminded 
one  so  of  Mark ;  this  was  Mark's  place,  he  seemed 
everywhere  visible.  And  again  the  captain  added 
a  word  or  two  about  some  necessary  attention 
to   his   business,   though   this   almost   triflingly. 

"What  !  You  will  take  my  child  away  from 
me } "  almost  shrieked  poor  Mrs.  Lane,  when,  a  lit- 
tle later  on,  the  proposition  was  broached  to  her. 
The  family  and  their  guests  were  assembled  in 
the  great  drawing-room ;  some  standing,  some  sit- 
ting, all  excitedly  considering  the  sudden  plan  of 
Captain  Charles  and  Laura;  and  each  from  a 
personal  standpoint  at  first,  as  always  with  such 
abrupt   change   of   plans, 

"Mamma  dear!"  and  Laura  had  the  little 
women  in  her  arms  instantly,  while  she  kissed 
the  quivering    lips  in    silence  for  a  moment. 


236  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"Oh,  I  shall  die  if  you  leave  me  here,  Laura\ 
I  am  not  fit  to  be  alone.  That  was  not  in  the 
marriage  contract  that  we  should  be  sepa- 
rated." 

The  unfortunate  lady  was,  for  the  moment, 
utterly  beside  herself.  Her  distress  was  genuine, 
and   moved   everybody. 

"  Mamma,  you  shall  never  be  left  alone ! " 
cried  Laura,  her  fine  eyes  flashing  through  her 
tears,  her  breast  heaving  with  contending  affec- 
tions. She  drew  her  mother  nearer  yet,  and 
caressed  her  as  if  their  kinship  were  reversed, 
saying,  "No;  you  shall  go  with  us.  Shall,  she 
not.  Captain   Broon  ? " 

"Of  course  she  must  !  Yes,  she  b'longs  to. 
our  mess,  now,  my  girl,"  roared  the  captain, 
wiping  his  own  eyes  and  stumping  about  the 
two,  as  if  half  a  mind  to  take  his  turn  at  em- 
bracing  and  comforting  the  hysterical  mother. 
"  Wife,  here !  Go  up  and  get  her  a  cup  o'  some- 
thing strengthening.  Yes,  of  course  she  goes 
'long.  Wish  you  would  all  go  'long.  I  hate 
to  break  up  the  party,  Mrs.  Hardy  and  Miss 
Madge.  All  go  down  to  the  seashore  with  us, 
anyway.     My   house   down   there's   big  enough." 

He  wanted  to  add  that  his  purse  was  ample 
enough  and  at  the    disposal    of    everybody ;    but 


TO  ENLIST  OR  NOT  TO  ENLIST.  237 

he  had  already  commissioned  his  wife  to  suggest 
as  much  to  Mrs.  Hardy,  since  the  mayor  was 
not  at  hand. 

"Oh,  no;  we  could  not  think  of  that,  captain," 
said  Mrs.  Hardy,  now  coming  to  take  her  place 
at  her  sister's  side,  and  offering  the  cup  of 
cordial  which  Mrs.  Broon,  the  elder,  had  brought. 
"You  are  exceedingly  kind,  captain.  But  we 
can  go  over  with  sister  to  her  farm,  for  a 
while,  as  we  had  originally  intended.  And  she 
will  bear  up  and  be  a  brave  little  woman,  I 
know.  For  a  wife's  place  is  with  her  husband. 
I   think   Laura  should  accompany  you.   Madge .? " 

"Yes,  indeed,  auntie,"  exclaimed  Madge,  taking 
the  hint,  and  then,  too,  the  romance  of  uniting 
the  lovers  took  instant  and  full  possession  of 
the   young  girl. 

She  was  kneeling  at  Mrs.  Lane's  feet.  Alto- 
gether it  was  an  interesting  group;  especially 
now  that  the  old  captain  had  edged  his  way 
around  to  the  back  of  the  chairs  till  he  got  in 
his  great  hand,  or  two  or  three  fingers  of  it, 
gently  smoothing  the  gray  hairs  of  the  dis- 
tressed and  perhaps   only  half-conscious   lady. 

"The  farm,  you  know,  can't  quite  be  left, 
^ust  now,"  Mrs.  Hardy  ventured;  and  she  con- 
tinued to   speak  of   "the    dear    old    house"    and 


238  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"how  much  pride  John  took  in  it  when  he  was 
alive,"  and  "how  easy  it  would  be,  after  a 
little,  to  leave  it  in  competent  hands  while  she 
ran   down   to   Long  Branch,"   etc.,    etc." 

"  No,  auntie ! "  It  was  Laura's  alarmed  face 
full  as  much  as  her  words.  "  Leave  mamma 
here?  exposed  to  — "  but  she  could  hardly  bring 
herself  to   name   the   danger  so  openly. 

"  Yes ;  I  will  go  back  to  the  farm  ! "  to  every 
one's  surprise  Mrs.  Lane  gasped  it  out,  and 
with  an  injured,  innocent  look  and  tone.  "  You] 
children  go  marry  and  leave  us  poor  mothersi 
to  our  lonely  way.  That's  the  way  of  the 
world!" 

"Don't,  don't  put  it  that  way,  mamma,  my^ 
precious   mamma!"   fairly   sobbed   Laura. 

"It  is  nature,  sister,"  said  Mrs.  Hardy,  sooth-j 
ingly,  yet  a  little  out  of  patience  again,  as  she 
had  been  much  of  late  years,  with  her  sister'j 
"impulsive   and  weak  ways." 

"  Cruel,  cruel  nature,  then ! "  was  Mrs.  Lane'sj 
response,  freeing  herself  coldly  from  her  daugh- 
ter's  arms. 

"It  is  in  the  Bible,  dear  lady,"  expostulatei 
the   old   captain,   unfortunately. 

"  The  Bible ! "  with  a  hard  glance  upward  at 
the  speaker.     "  Yes,   I  know.      In  the  —  in    yoi 


TO  ENLIST  OR  NOT  TO  ENLIST 


239 


Bible."  Then  she  fell  to  rocking  herself  back 
and  forth,   elbows    dropped  to   knees. 

"  No,  Laura,  I  will  go ! "  putting  away  the 
unhappy  bride.  **  It  is  all  right,'*  meaning  the 
very  reverse.  "We  will  pack  up  this  very  day, 
your  auntie  and  Madge  and  I.  You  go  pack  up 
and  follow  your  husband.  It  is  no  matter  what 
becomes   of  me." 

And  that  was  the  woman  Laura  had  to  deal 
with,  my  reader.  How  everybody  pitied  the  sob- 
bing girl,  as  she  silently  wound  her  arms  again 
about  her  mother,  insisting  on  the  embrace 
which  was  not  welcomed.  How  beautiful  she 
was  in  her  wild  wretchedness  between  two  con- 
tending loves!  And  no  one  could  help  her.  So 
everyone  left  the  room  for  a  time.  And  every- 
one heard,  with  unutterable  pity,  as  the  door 
closed,   her  heart-breaking   moan: 

"My  husband   and   my   mother!" 

"It  is  all  of  this  dreadful  time  of  war," 
groaned  the  captain,  as  the  retiring  group 
halted,  all  standing,  on  the  veranda  without. 
"God   pity   us   all!" 

"Don't  you  think  she  had  better  stay,  father?" 
asked  his   wife,   wiping  her   eyes. 

"Perhaps  she  had,"  he  responded,  wetting  his 
forefinger  in  his   mouth  and  holding  it   up  to  see 


240 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


which  way  the  wind  was,  as  if  the  weather  had 
something  to  do  with  even  this  sort  of  trou- 
ble. 

"Not  at  all,  Mr.  Broon,"  said  Mrs,  Hardy, 
with  much  decision.  "Why,  she  would  be  worse 
than  useless  here.  She  has  never  had  her  hus- 
band for  an  hour,  you  might  say,  to  herself. 
Her  heart  is  gone  to  the  wars.  You  do  n't 
know  us   women,    sir.*' 

"Tut,  tut;  don't  1}  I  think  I  do,  ma'am. 
Such  a  woman  as  that !  Now  I  know  that  that 
little  ceremony  which  took  her  in  tow  and 
bound  her  alongside  o'  my  son,  has  changed 
this   ere   girl's   whole   natur'.     I   know!" 

"Strange,  is  it  not?"  mused  Madge  Hardy, 
curiously,  tearing  a  leaf.  "Just  that  little  cere- 
mony." 

At  which  the  married  people  managed  to 
smile,  and  the  group  began  to  break  up,  leaving 
the  next  hour  or  two  to  reveal  what  it  would 
reveal. 

As  they  walked  different  ways,  you  might 
have  overheard  Madge  question  her  mother,  with 
pretty  upturned  face,  about  "young  Smiles,  who 
was  loitering  here  in  the  mountains,  if  he  really 
was  not  incapable  of  any  dishonorable  purpose, 
BO  far  as  he  was   concerned." 


TO  ENLIST  OR  NOT  TO  ENLIST, 


241 


And  Mrs.  Hardy's  protest  that  she  "did  not 
believe  that  fear  had  entered  into  Laura's  remot 
est  thought.  It  was  simply  natural,  charming 
bride-devotion  on  one  hand,  and  love  of  mother 
on   the   other." 

Which  the  reader  is  welcome  to,  using  it  as 
it   may   strike   you. 

As  a  matter  of  history,  it  remains  but  to  re- 
cord that  the  house  was  shut  up  the  next  day; 
that  Mrs.  Hardy  and  Madge  accompanied  Mrs. 
Lane  to  the  farm ;  that  Laura  went  off  with 
the  captain's  family,  off  to  the  wars,  she  and 
he,  though  the  family  were  to  be  dropped  at 
the  seaside. 

But  those  days  were  like  no  other  days  we 
ever  saw.  Every  day  was  startlingly  new.  And 
men   changed    so   with   things. 

For  instance,  Erastus  Smiles  and  his  father, 
the  doctor.  Of  course,  within  a  week  of  the 
widow's  return,  the  two  were  become  again  very 
familiar  visitors  at  the  widow's  pretty  farm- 
house. 

It  was  agreed  between  Mrs.  Hardy  and  Madge 
that  it  was  best  to  indulge  the  sick  lady  for  a 
day  or  two.  Indeed,  they  could  not  have  helped 
themselves,  for  the  widow's  stout  and  perverse 
will  was  roused ;  her  resentment  yet  lashed  her. 
"Was   she   not   mistress   in    her   own   house.?" 


242 


A    WEDDING  IN   WAR-TIME, 


But  one  beautiful  summer  Sabbath  saw  a  great 
change  sweep  like  a  flash  of  light  over  this  lit- 
tle  group. 

"Well,  sister,  this  is  the  first  and  last  Sun- 
day riding  for  pleasure  for  me!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Hardy,  as  she  helped  Mrs.  Lane  into  the  car- 
riage that  Dr.  Smiles  had  provided.  "I  only 
comply,    doctor,   for   this   poor   invalid's   sake." 

"My  dear  madam,"  was  Smiles'  smooth  reply, 
"suppose,  then,  that  you  and  my  son  ride  to- 
gether, for  he  is  as  sober  as  a  preacher  to-day; 
in  a  perfect  Sabbath  mood,  I  do  assure  you. 
Perhaps  you  can  tempt  him  to  confide  in  you. 
He 's  very  fond  of  his  mother.  If  he  do  n't 
tell  you  what  *s  clouding  him,  I  shall  have  to 
take  him  home  to  that  excellent  lady,  whom 
you   resemble,    he   thinks,    by-the-way." 

Thumbs  pressed  together  obsequiously  now, 
the  doctor  having  seated  himself  facing  Madge 
Hardy  and  Mrs.  Lane  in  the  carriage,  leaving 
Mrs.    Hardy  still   standing  on   the   ground. 

"If  you  would  be  so  kind,"  exclaimed  Erastus 
with  genuine  invitation.  "We  really  did  not 
know   how   to   arrange   it  otherwise  for  five." 

And  the  young  fellow's  strong,  homely  face, 
somehow,  had  a  more  interesting  and  less  for- 
bidding look,  overcast  and  grave  as  it  now  was, 
than   Mrs.    Hardy  had   before   seen   in   it. 


TO  ENLIST  OR  NOT  TO  ENLIST.  2'43 

"Indeed  I  will,  Mr.  Smiles,"  she  responded 
promptly.  "  Of  course  we  shall  all  keep  to- 
gether." 

The  party  got  ofE  in  that  shape,  winding  up 
hills  and  down  dales,  to  the  eastward  of  Bethle- 
hem ;  for  an  hour  or  two  the  understanding  be- 
ing that  they  should  return  through  the  village 
by  noon,  to  secure  the  Sunday  mail,  the  post- 
office  being   open   from   twelve   to   one  o'clock. 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Hardy,"  Erastus  is  saying;  "this 
has  been  the  most  momentous  week  of  my  life ! 
You  have,  I  venture  to  presume,  guessed  that  I 
loved  Laura  Lane.  You  have  seen  that  in  my 
talk  of  this  day.  You  do  me  too  much  honor, 
however,  in  supposing  that  I  am  worthy  of  a 
good  wife,  and  in  hoping  that  I  may  yet  find  one. 
I  can  hardly  understand  myself  in  the  making  of 
such  a  confession.  A  month  ago  I  was  proud 
of  my  mean,  selfish,  vengeful  self;  to-day  I  con- 
fess  to  you,   like   a   penitent!" 

His   rugged   features   were   pale   as   death. 

"I  will  not  indulge  any  embarrassment,  Mr. 
Smiles,"  the  good  lady  replied,  trying  in  real 
kindness  to  disguise  her  agitation,  "for  I  have 
a  son  about  your  age,  who  makes  me  his  con- 
fident,  but —  " 

"  But     I     ought     to    realize    the     indelicacy     of 


244  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

thrusting  such  confidences  on  a  comparative  stran- 
ger," he  exclaimed.  "I  do.  Forgive  me.  Yet 
hear  me  ;  for  if  I  could  talk  to  my  own  mother 
just   now  —  " 

"Why  not  go   seek  her?" 

*'  Because, '^  with  a  quick,  instinctive  glance 
over  his  shoulder,  as  if  to  see  if  his  father  was 
within  earshot,  —  "  because  I  must  not  leave  my 
father  here  alone.  Do  you  understand  why?" 
with  a  searching  gaze  into  his  companion's  be- 
nevolent face. 

"  I  —  I  think  I  do,"  she  faltered.  Am  I  not 
here   on   the   same   duty  ? " 

Her  white  hairs  enhanced  the  deep  color  that 
now  came,  till  her  forehead  and  temples  seemed 
flaming. 

"Yes.  Oh,  the  shame  of  confessing  it,"  he 
groaned. 

"Then  your  father  really  has  designs  on  my 
sister's   property  ?  " 

"  Hush,  oh,  hush !  I  *m  not  yet  ready  to  break 
—  I   do   not   say   so." 

"But  you,  young  man,  you  surely  would  not 
be  a  party  to  such  a  scheme  ? "  very .  vehe- 
mently. 

"I  would,     Mrs.     Hardy, — just     think     of     it 
God  forgive   me  —  I    would,    till  a   week   ago." 


TO  ENLIST  OR  NOT  TO  ENLIST. 


245 


"  But  not  now  ?  Oh,  sir,  not  now.  Then  you 
are  on  our  side,  and  the  evil  will  be  prevented 
through  your  goodness.  Heaven  indeed  bless 
you  1  " 

Nothing  was  said  in  reply,  for  some  moments, 
till,  as  they  were  now  in  sight  of  the  village 
church  spires,  the  young  man  suddenly  turned 
and  asked : 

"Do  you  know  what  has  changed  me?  If  in- 
deed it  can  change  me  so  that  I  shall  be  a 
changed   man!" 

"God's  good  Spirit,  I  trust,"  she  replied,  and 
was  too  much  alarmed  by  her  escort's  now 
almost  uncontrollable  emotion  to  ask  another 
question. 

"  No,  Mrs.  Hardy  ;  my  heart  has  been  stirred 
with  the  tempest  that  has  been  raging  there 
because  I  saw  that  company  of  patriots  march 
away  to  heroic  war  and  leave  me,  a  selfish 
coward,   behind ! " 

"Do  you,  also,  confess  to  the  war  fever  that 
has  attacked  all  the  foolish  boys } "  the  lady 
asked,  trying  to  make  light  of  patriotic  enthu- 
siasm, as  she  had  often  done  in  letters  to  her 
own  boy;  and  yet  every  playful  page  had  ended 
in   pathetic   dissuasion. 

"  Mrs.  Hardy,  you  have  a  son  ? "  very  gravely. 


246  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

"  Yes,"    shaking  like   a   leaf  now. 
"And   you   do  not  want   him  to   go  to  war?" 
*'What,   our   Fred?     Oh,    God   forbid!" 
The   spark   had   taken  to   the   tinder   now.     The 
apprehensions     of     anxious     days     and     sleepless 
nights  were   tyrannizing  over   her;    she   could   not 
keep   back   her  tears. 

"Well,  then,  kind  lady,"  Erastus  resumed, 
"you  had  better  leave  this  duty  up  here  undone, 
and  go  put  your  arms  about  him,  for  we  young 
men  are  being  swept  like  a  tempest;  your  boy 
will    go !     Every  decent    young    man   of    us   will 

go!" 
.  "  Stop   the   carriage !     I   am   faint." 

"  Father !"  shouted  the  young  man,  to  the 
other  vehicle  rolling  leisurely  behind  them  across 
the  village  green.  "  Quick !  The  lady  has 
fainted  I  " 

It  was  the  work  of  a  moment  to  bring  the 
two  carriages  together,  and  to  a  halt.  They  were 
in  full  view  of  the  people  just  emerging  from 
the  church  porch.  Dr.  Smiles  and  Madge^  Hardy 
were  instantly  at  the  wheels. 

"Oh,  mamma!     What  is   it.?" 

" Nothing  now.  I'm  re  —  recovered.  Here  we 
are  before  so  many  —  people.  Let's  get  home." 
She  refused  the    physician's    hand    at  her  wrist. 


TO  ENLIST  OR  NOT  TO  ENLIST.  247 

'We  must  hasten  back,  Madge;  and  I  must 
go   down   to    S to-morrow  !  " 

"  Mamma,    I   know.     It   is   Fred  ! " 

"Yes,  doctor,"  said  Mrs.  Lane,  leaning  out 
from  her  carriage.  "It  was  just  so  the  other 
night  in  my  room.  She*s  afraid  Fred  will  en- 
4st." 

"Erastus,"  the  doctor  began,  "what  have  you 
been  saying  to  this  lady  ? "  It  was  half  reproof, 
half  pleasantry. 

"  I  have  said,  sir,"  Erastus  answered,  and  at 
the  same  time  his  ashen  face  was  turned  towards 
'ihe  knots  of  villagers  crossing  the  grass,  "that 
ill  the  manly  youth  of  this  country  would  go 
^.o  war!" 

"Severe  on  yourself,  my  lad,"  replied  the  doc- 
vOr,  trying  to  laugh  aloud,  but  somehow  strangely 
apprehensive  as  he  searched  the  blanched  fea- 
tures of  his  soa  "Come,  let's  get  out  of 
this." 

"Father,   look  there  I  " 

Every  eye  followed  Erastus  Smiles'  long,  out- 
stretched arm. 

"Why,  it  is  a  wounded  soldier  they  are  clus- 
tering about ! "  Madge  Hardy  said,  clasping  her 
hands. 

"Yes,".  Mrs.   Lane  added  nervously.     "My  mar/ 


248  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

told   me  that  farmer  Knott's   Ike  was   home  from 
that   big  battle,   on   a — a   fur-something." 

"A  furloughed  hero,  father!"  exclaimed  Eras- 
tus,   reverently. 

At  the  same  moment  he  sprung  to  the  green- 
sward, lifting  his  hat  with  the  hand  that  was  free 
from   the   reins. 

"Well,  you  goose,"  the  doctor  blurted  out,  his 
black  eyes  blazing,  "a  blue  coat-sleeve  tied  up. 
I   don't   see   much   to   that,    except  its  novelty." 

"Oh,  isnt  he  interesting!"  Madge  Hardy 
panted  out.  "And  an  officer,  too.  See  how  the 
people   flock   about   him." 

"  Yes ;  was  in  Boston,  you  know,"  the  widow 
began  further  to  explain,  "and  went  from  there. 
My  man  says  he  was  a  machinist,  —  and  the 
Knott s  up  here  on  the  back  road  are  very  common 
farmers ;  but  now  he 's  a  wounded  officer,  what 
fools  all  Bethlehem  are  making  of  themselves 
over  him !  And  yet  he  does  seem  impressive, 
my  dear.  A  real,  live,  fighting  man  up  here," 
musingly  studying  the  picture  and,  for  the  mo- 
ment, amused  to  the  forgetting  of  her  own 
woes. 

"Lost  that  left  arm,  I  see,"  said  the  doctor, 
gloved  thumbs  and  finger  tips  tapping  each  other 
nervously.     "  Zounds,  but  he  is  a  splendid  fellow 


TO  ENLIST  OR  NOT  TO  ENLIST  249 

to  be  out  of  hospital  so  soon !  It  can  *t  be  a 
month  since  that  first  horrid  fighting.  Satan's 
work,  all !  Let  us  devoutly  thank  God  that  none 
of  ours   are  thus  engaged  in   public   butchery ! " 

"I  don't  quite  like  that  kind  of  talk,  either," 
said  the  widow.  For  the  passing  Ike  had  caught 
sight  of  her  carriage  now,  and,  away  across  the 
emerald  pavement,  spotted  over  with  the  groups 
in  "  Sunday  dress,"  he  had  lifted  his  soldier's 
cap  to  her  in  a  pretty  way.  '*  Somehow  he  does 
look  very  fine.  Why  didn't  the  hero  wear  his 
sword }  Let 's  cheer  him.  To  think  of  it ;  he 
has  been  in  a  real  battle  and  got  real  wounds ! " 

"  Mamma,  yes ! "  cried  Madge  Hardy,  to  urge 
her  mother's  handkerchief  out.  She  stood,  her- 
self, on  tip-toe,  all  pink  as  a  peach  with  hei 
patriotism,  and  fluttered  her  little  lace  banner 
high  up  in  the  summer  breeze.  "No,  indeed, 
butchery !  Dr.  Smiles.  I  do  think  it  is  so  rea' 
now.  How  handsome  all  the  men  look!  Hur 
rah !     hurrah !    very  softly. 

"  Child  ! "  exclaimed  her  mother,  "  would  yo^ 
encourage  your  own  brother  to  go  off  there,  anc 
get    —  get    butchered } " 

But  for  all  that,  dear  Yankee  soul,  she  go^ 
her  banner  in  the  air  too. 

Then    there  was    a    little     cheer    eckoe-j    over 


250  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

from  the  people  about  the  hero ;  a  mere  Sunday 
cheer,  a  clapping  of  hands  of  pretty  country 
girls  and  matrons,  with  an  urchin's  piping  silver 
mingled  in  clapping  from  side  to  side  of  the 
Green,  as  others  took  courage  now  that  some 
one  had   initiated   the   business. 

"That's  his  sister  at  his  side.  How  proud 
she   seems ! "    said   Mrs.    Lane,   quite   smiling. 

"  See  the  man  blush,"  said  the  doctor,  in  spite 
of  himself.  "  Even  from  here  I  can  see  that  he 's 
lost   the   traumatic   pallor   of   a   moment   ago." 

"Retract  your  naughty  word,  then,"  said  Madge 
not   withdrawing   her  eyes. 

"What,    butchery.?" 

"Yes.  A  war  for  the  Union  is  sacrifice,  sir. 
Glorious   sacrifice ! " 

Then  she  dropped  her  arm,  and  gave  him 
her  school-girl  eyes,  full,  all  school-girl  patriot- 
ism. 

"  I  declare  I  will.  Miss  Hardy.  It  is  a  mov- 
ing spectacle.  Like  a  picture,  this.  Like  a  bit 
of  an  epic  in  a  man's  own  life -time.  Because, 
ladies,  you  know,  we  are  mere  spectators.  We 
can  afford  to  admire,  since  it  is  not  our  son 
who  is   robbed  of   a   good  working  hand   there." 

All  this  while  Erastus  Smiles  had  been  stand' 
ing    by  his    horse's    head,    partly    hid    from    his 


TO  ENLIST  OR  NOT  TO  ENLIST  251 

Ather,  and  uncovered  under  the  brilliant  mid- 
day. From  his  fixed  gaze  on  the  passing  soldier 
boy  he  had  not  turned  a  moment.  He  had  not 
spoken.  He  had  not  joined  in  the  soft  salute, 
He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  his  duty  to  be 
polite,  or  care  for  a  lady's  safety,  for  the  restive 
horse,  startled  by  the  hand-clapping,  began  to 
move  away  from   him   unchecked. 

**I    say.    Rat!"   his   father   shouted. 

"Father,"  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  recalled  to 
himself,  "please  stand  by  this  animal.  I  want 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  that  splendid  fel- 
low." 

"Why   so?" 

"Because,  father,  I  am  going  to  give  him  my 
name  as   a   recruit!" 

"  Angels  defend  me  I  Am  I  crazy,  or  is  it 
you,   you   simpleton.?" 

This  Smiles,  the^  elder,  with  a  spring  to  his 
son's   side. 

"I'll   put  you   in   leading   string  at  — " 

"My  dear  father,  you  will  certainly  take  your 
hands  off  me  and  —  and  give  me  your  bless 
mg. 

It  was  a  request  in  love  and  inflection,  but 
the  words   and   looks   were   of   command. 

And  what  a   shock   of   surprise   this   first    reso- 


252  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

lute  rebellion  of  his  life  gave  the  boy's  father 
standing  there.  He  took  his  hands  off,  however, 
for  he  needed  his  thumbs,  which  he  began  roll- 
ing so  very  far  backward  on  his  wrists,  and 
with  a  pressure  that  showed  in  his  purple  face. 
Then,  getting  his  breath,  and  bringing  himself 
down   from   his   toes,    heavily,    on    his   heels : 

"To   enlist?" 

"To   enlist." 

"You.J»" 

"Then  that's  been  the  worm  at  your  heart 
for   the   last   few   days " 

■'Oh,  my  father,  let  a  kind  look  come  into 
^rour  face,  I  do  pray  you.  Send  me  away  with 
your  approval.  I  cannot  do  the  —  the  other  thing. 
You  will  sometime  be  glad  I  acted  the  manly 
part." 

"Why,  boy,  who  asked  you  to  act  any  other 
part.?"  with  a  quick,  warning  movement  of  the 
black  eyes  that  referred  to  the  rest  of  the  com- 
pany. 

"I  know,  I  know,  sir,"  the  son  answered,  at 
the  same  time  seizing  his  father's  arm.  "But 
I  do  not  care  who  hears  it.  I  have  no  heart 
for  life.  It  makes  not  a  whit's  difference  what 
becomes  of   me,     I'll  give  my  life  to   my  country. 


TO  ENLIST  OR  NOT  TO  ENLIST.  253 

I  can  afford  to  do  it,  surely,  if  happy  men 
can,  for  I  have  nothing  to  live  for.  And  there, 
too,  I  am  as  selfish  as  I  seem  fated  to  be  in 
everything  I  do  in  this  world.  But  yet,"  and 
here  his  eyes  caught  the  approving  yet  wonder- 
ing gaze  of  Madge  Hardy,  "I  dare  hope  I  have 
just  a  little  manliness  in  what  I  do.  It  is  a 
dear  land;  many  other  people  may  live  to  be 
happy  in  it,  if  the  Union  is  saved.  Now, 
father — for  no  protests  are  of  any  use,  I  tell 
you, — send  me  away,  doing  one  decent,  manly 
thing,  doing  a  thing  that  gives  the  lie  to  Mark 
Broon's  contempt  for  me ;  send  me  with  your 
blessing ! " 

"When?" 

And  there  were  signs  of  a  shrewd  second 
thought   in   that   elder  face. 

"At  once.  I  want  to  pledge  myself  to  that 
officer  in  our  country's  army  as  soon  as  he  can 
approach." 

Yet  there  was  desperate  resolution  under  his 
excited  grandiloquence. 

"See!  I  have  beckoned  to  him,  and  all  the 
people  are   coming." 

Which  was  true.  Already  one  and  another  of 
the  villagers  had  paused  about  the  carriages,  till 
quite  a  little  throng  of  them  blocked  in  the 
wheels  and   horses. 


254 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


"Wait,  my  son,"  this  in  a  low  tone.  "If 
you  will  go  make  a — a  hero,"  with  almost  a 
sneer,  "of  yourself,  why,  I  can  do  better  for 
you  than  you  can  do  for  yourself.  We'll  go 
home   and   get   a   commission   for  you." 

"  Father,"  the  young  fellow  resumed,  "  I  al- 
ways feared  you ;  I  confess  it.  It  is  your  con- 
sent   I   want,   not   honors." 

He  whispered   it  in  his  son's   ear: 

"  But   I   want   the   honors  ! " 

A  shade  of  pity  flitted  across  the  younger  face. 
But   Erastus  replied: 

"Very  well.  I'll  not  enlist  with  this  man. 
But  I    shall  give  him   my  hand  on   the  pledge." 

He  then  stepped  forward  to  greet  the 
"wounded  hero,"   now   come   near,   with: 

"I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  your  acquaint- 
ance. Lieutenant,  yet  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I 
glory  in  you,  and  here  give  you  my  hand  that 
I  have  been  brought  to  a  decision  by  the  sight 
of  you  to  go  fight  for  the   Union." 

"God  bless  you,  stranger,"  was  Ike  Knott's  re- 
sponse, grasping  the  outstretched  hand.  "That's 
the  kind  o'   talk  we  want.     Hip,   hip!" 

The  villagers  gave  a  hurrah,  Sabbath  or  no 
Sabbath,  while  Madge  Hardy  fluttered  up  and  took 
hold  of  his  arm ;  she  might  have  kissed  him  in  her 


TO  ENLIST  OR  NOT  TO  ENLIST,  255 

enthusiasm,  but  that,  notwithstanding  its  glow, 
it  "was  not  really,  mamma,  a  truly  good  face, 
after  all.  Do  you  know  what  I  mean, 
mamma?" 

This  an  hour  or  two  later,  after  they  had  re- 
turned  to   the   farm. 

For  the  party  rather  abruptly  disentangled 
itself  from  the  now  decidedly  boisterous  villagers 
and  drove  away. 

**  No }  You  are  too  excited  to  spend  a  social 
evening  with  us,  my  poor  dear  doctor,  no  doubt," 
remarked   Mrs.    Lane,   at  her  own  door. 

She  had  beckoned  him  in,  and  he  had  shaken 
his   head. 

"Well,  I  do  think  the  times  are  terrible. 
How  my  heart  can  sympathize  with  you,  and 
you  with  me,  now.  Laura  will  admire  your  son 
now.     I   shall   write  her  at   once.     Ah   me ! " 

And  no  doubt  her  sigh  was  a  sign  of  real 
distress. 

"And  yet,  my  dear  lady,"  the  doctor  replied, 
in  a  tone  calculated  to  command  the  attention 
of  the  other  ladies,  who  halted  in  the  vestibule 
to  listen,  "lest  we  be  rude  to  him,  poor  gen- 
tleman," as  Madge  had  whispered, —  "  and  yet.  I 
say  to  you  all,  while  my  heart  is  wrung  with  a 
natural    parental    sorrow,     I    can    yet     see    many 


256  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

ways  in  which  I  shall  be  the  means  of  doing 
service  to  my  kind  by  the  free  surrender  of  my 
only  son  to  this  great  cause.  No  doubt  a  kind 
Providence  will  overrule  this  to  my  blessing. 
Good-night,   ladies." 

"Good-night,"  from   all  the  others. 

"Good-night,"  from  Erastus  Smiles  in  turn, 
lifting  his   hat. 

"  Good-night,"  again  in  chorus ;  and  suddenly 
Madge  Hardy  advancing  and  extending  her  hand 
to  him,  the  first  and  only  one.  He  took  it,  ac- 
tually,  not   without   a  flush,   and   turned   away. 

"Why  did  you  do  that,  you  silly  child?"  was 
Mrs.  Hardy's  reproving  speech  as  they  were 
alone. 

"Because  I  pitied  the  young  man,  trying  to 
be  a  hero,  and  left  with  such  a  cold-blooded 
man   as   his   father." 

"A  pretty  and  impulsive  girl,  Erastus.  But 
what  made  you  blush  so  warmly.?"  said  the 
doctor,   when  they  had   entered    the   carriage. 

"Because,  father,  it  made  me  feel  young 
again,  and  almost  as  I  was  a  few  years  ago, 
when  I  was  cleaner  than  I  am  now,  to  think 
this  innocent  young  woman  so  admired  a  good 
intention   in   me ! " 

"Why,  Rat,  one  would  suppose  I  had  de- 
bauched  my   son's    mind." 


TO  ENLIST  OR  NOT  TO  ENLIST, 


257 


The  eyes,  full  turned  and  frank,  made  the 
only    reply. 

"  Well,  now,  my  son,  you  need  n't  take  it  to 
heart  so  thoroughly,  that  I  suggested  certain 
plans  in  life  to  you.  Drop  all  that.  You  shall 
serve  under  the  precious  flag.  Why,  I  got  a  let- 
ter only  last  night,  which  I  was  tempted  to 
burn,  in  which  one  of  our  powerful  politicians 
down  home  suggested  the  appointment  of  my 
son  to  a  lucrative  office  in  the  department  of 
army  transportation.  It  angered  me  to  think  of 
your  being  enlisted  and  carrying  a  sword,  as  you 
would  have  to  figuratively,  at  least,  in  this 
wicked   war." 

"I'll  not  hear  that  again,  sir,  even  from  you ! 
I  can  get  out  and  walk.  To  me  it  is  a  holy 
war!'* 

He   was  actually   laying  down   the   lines. 

"Ye-a-s,  holy;"  yet  his  thumbs  concluded  not 
to  roll  each  other  back  very  far.  "  So  be  it, 
Rat.  Upon  the  whole  this  uprising  of  the  peo- 
ple has  its  majestic  side.  I'll  promise  you,  here 
and  now,  to  so  view  it,  if  you  will  agree  to 
take  this  appointment, —  as  a  colonel,  mark  you, 
think  of  that !  in  a  department  of  the  army 
where  you  will  not  need  to  kill  anybody,  nor 
get   killed.     Now,   come,    will   you   do   it?" 


258 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


Resuming  the  lines  thoughtfully,  Erastus  Smiles 
allowed  his  animal  to  pace  on  while  the  vehicle 
behind  them  passed  with  its  driver  out  of  possi- 
ble  earshot.  For  a  season  he  uttered  not  a  word 
in   reply.     At   length  he   muttered  to   himself: 

"Fine   pay." 

"Yes,"  eagerly  answered  the  doctor,  misinter- 
preting him. 

"No  chance  of  being  shot/'  with  a  start,  and 
as  if  it  were  provoked  from  him  by  his  father's 
previous    misunderstanding. 

"  Not   a   chance,    my   son  ! "   warmly. 

An  astonished  stare,  which  meant,  "Is  it  pos- 
sible you  still  fail  to  catch  my  meaning.?"  But 
otherwise  silence  for   some  moments,  till  finally: 

"You  assure  me,  on  your  honor,  father  Smiles, 
that  you  will  heartily  support  the  war  in  all 
your  intercourse  with  men.  You  will  relieve  us, 
as  a  family,  of  any  remote  suspicion  of  disloy- 
alty ;  relieve  us  and  yourself  of  the  danger  and 
disgrace  of  disloyalty — now  listen;  do  not  inter- 
rupt me,  for  I  am  respectful  as  I  am  plain  — 
by  thought,  word  or  deed,  if  I  will  forego  the 
battlefield  and  take  this  safer — God  pity  me!  — 
safer   place  } " 

"  I  promise.  Heavens !  Your  patriotism  is  re.al 
enough   to   move  even  my  admiration." 


TO  ENLIST  OR  NOT  TO  ENLIST, 


259 


"  Then  it  is  so  agreed,  and  you  may  reply  to 
the  letter  at  once,  for  I'm  about  to  return  to 
S to-morrow." 

Within  the  next  ten  r'.ays  the  two  men  had 
worked   this  programme  into  accomplished  facts 


26o  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


XII. 
NOT  TO  BE  CAMP-FOLLOWERS. 

a  ^SOMETHING     has     gone    wrong     to-day, 

^     father?" 

It  was  Capt.  Charles  Broon's  ever  watchful 
wife  who  said  it,  following  him  up  stairs  to 
his  room  to  do  so,  as  he  returned  home  from 
<-he   first   day  down-town   in   New  York. 

"Tell  me  what  it  is,"  she  resumed,  as  he 
still  employed  himself,  without  response,  at  his 
toilet  for  dinner. 

She  was  seated  behind  him,  watching  him, 
with  folded  arms,  a  habit  of  hers,  bless  her 
kind   heart. 

"Well,  wife,  the  fact  is,"  he  replied,  laying 
down  the  clot'/ies  brush  and  gazing  curiously 
about  the  nob!e  room,  "  we  are  anchored  here 
in  town  for  fiie  present.  Can't  follow  up  the 
boy." 

"  That's   n  K    all,     father." 

She  alwf  ^s  called  him  "  father."  Indeed,  she 
was   fifteer   years    his   junior. 


NOT    TO  BE  CAMP-FOLLOWERS,  261 

"  Why,    no,    shipmate." 
Then  silence. 

"You  are  always  in  very  grave  mood,  my 
dear  one,  when  you  call  me  by  that  old  sea- 
term.     Tell    me   what   troubles   you." 

And  she  went  up  to  him,  wound  her  arms  over 
his  wide  shoulders,  and  gave  him  eyes  of  priceless 
trust  and  sympathy.  Yet  she  trembled.  He  felt 
the  tremors  that  agitated  her.  This  was  not  usual, 
for  the  life  of  this  home  had  rarely  known  a  danger 
or  seen  an  approaching  peril  in  all  the  munificent 
years  since  this  "  second  wife"   had   lived   in   it. 

He  seemed  both  excited  and  fatigued.  Yet 
with  a  great  effort  he  was  evidently  trying  to 
command  himself,  in  mercy  to  others.  He  stroked 
her  hair;  he  let  his  arm  fall  about  her  in  such 
a  strong  embrace,  as  we  all  have  done  when 
dangers,  which  our  arms  could  not  for  a  moment 
defend  against,  were  threatening  those  we  loved. 

"Is   it   Mark.?" 

"Thank  God,   no  !  " 

"Is  it  some  bad  news  for  the  country,  a 
defeat.?" 

"Thank   God,   no!" 

"Oh,   tell  me!" 

"  My  business   is  gone  wrong.' 

"  Badly  ? " 


262  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

"Yes.  I  shall  lose  nearly  half  my  fortune. 
Not  a  cent  of  Southern  collections.  I  warned 
'em.  I  told  the  boys  to  trim  sail.  We  supposed 
we  had.  But,  Heaven  help  us,  my,  dear,  I'll 
keep  the  home  ;  I  will !  Only  it  seems  too  bad 
for  an  old  fellow  like  me  to  have  to  take  to 
the   quarter-deck   again  !  " 

"What,   go   to   sea.?"    winding  closer  to  him. 

"  I  do  n't  know  but  that's  what  't  will  come 
to.     Where   is    Laura,   poor   child  ? " 

"  Up  in  Mark's  room  rearranging  the  trunks. 
Indeed  poor  child,  as  you  say,  when  we  tell  her, 
for  she  has  been  as  happy  as  a  bird  all  day  at 
the   thought   of  our   getting   off  to-morrow." 

"We  will  not  tell  her  at  present,  wife. 
Cheer  up.  Let  's  go  down  to  dinner.  I  shall 
know  more  in  a  day  or  two.  After  all,  it 
would  n't  be  the  worst  lot  in  the  world  to  live 
in  the  cabin  with  me,  would  it  ?  Hey  } "  and 
his  stout  heart  got  the  mastery  for  the  moment 
at  five  and  sixty  as  if  he  were  forty  years 
)'ounger. 

Cheer  up?  As  if  that  loyal  lady  ever  needed 
such  an  exhortation.  As  if  any  good  wife,  in 
good  health,  ever  needed  the  exhortation  at  the 
time,  ever  memorable  in  our  households,  when 
"  business   went   wrong,   and    very   badly  wrong ! " 


NOT  TO  BE   camp-followers,  263 


No ;    it   is   the   man   who   mouths   the    exhortation 
who   needs   it   most. 

"  You  don 't  take  my  misfortunes  much  tt 
heart,"  said  the  captain,  as  they  descended  to 
the  dining-room,  rather  disposed  for  one  moment, 
notwithstanding  his  own  exhortations,  to  be 
piqued  at  his  wife's  calmness,  and  misinterpret 
ing   it. 

"My  dear,  how  can  you  so  misunderstand 
me  ? "  she  asked,  ready  to  show  her  woman's 
terror   over    business    reverses   in    a   moment. 

"  True,  shipmate,  true,  I  have  myself  taught , 
you  to  trust  the  compass  and  chart,  and  look  the 
storm  in  the  eye.  Riches  may  take  to  themselves 
wings,  but  this  is  the  time  to  show  what  our 
faith  in  God  can  do.  We've  got  somewhat  comin' 
to  us  when  we  get  to  port,"  casting  his  eyes 
upward.  "At  all  events,  you  can  drive  in  the 
park   yet." 

"  God  help  us  to  hide  it  from  Laura,  and  by 
pitiable  excuses  to  adjourn  the  hope  she  has  of 
meeting  her  husband,"  sighed  Mrs.  Broon. 
"  Shall   we  ever  join   husband  and  wife } " 

It  was  not,  however,  an  easy  task,  this  putting 
off  the  day  with  Laura.  She  fed  on  Mark's 
letters,  which  came  as  regularly  as  the  sultry 
summer  mornings.     Her  mother    also    wrote    her, 


264  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIAfE, 

and  Madge  Hardy  wrote  all  the  astonishing 
news  from  the  New  England  farm.  That  gave 
the  two  caged  ladies  something  to  talk  about. 
The  heat  was  something  terrific  to  fight  against 
those  long  days  of  waiting;  a  week  of  days, 
before  they  knew  it,  two  weeks,  a  month.  A 
month  behind  the  blinds,  all  the  shimmering 
July  mornings  and  scorching  afternoons,  with 
the  up-town  pavements  of  those  aristocratic  streets 
as  deserted  as  a  country  road-way.  A  month  of 
twilight  drives  through  the  neighboring  park, 
and  back  again  to  a  month  of  distressful  sultry 
nights,   in   which   it   was  difficult   to   sleep. 

"To-morrow,  my  dears.  I  hope  we  may  get 
away  to-morrow." 

For  a  whole  month  this  was  the  good  captain's 
vesper  chant  of  cheer.  Yet  every  morning  took 
him  away  from  the  breakfast  table  in  a  great 
hurry  of  inexorable  business   for  that  day. 

One  evening,  about  the  month's  close,  as  the 
captain  returned,  his  wife  drew  him  into  the 
library,   and  began,   very   gravely: 

"  It  is  telling  on  her,  this  country  girl.  She  is 
not  so  rosy  as  she  was,  cooped  in  these  hot 
walls." 

"I  realize  it,"  responded  the  captain,  sadly," 
yet  with     the   slightest   gleam     of     cheer     in    his 


NOT  TO  BE  CAMP-FOLLOWERS.  265 

eyes.  It  is  telling  on  us  all,"  and  the  gleam 
faded,  puzzling  her.  "But,  mother,  I  —  I  have 
sold  the  Long  Branch  property.  There  is  no 
place  to  go  to  there.  I  —  you  must  —  I  have 
brought   up  the  deed   for  you  to  sign." 

With  prompt  cheer  of  her  own  she  just  led 
him  into  the  library,  got  pen  and  ink  ready,  and 
offered  to  search  his  pockets  for  the  document, 
since   he   still   hesitated. 

"You  are  good  pluck,  wife,"  he  said,  rubbing 
his  big  hand  across  the  veins  on  his  purple 
forehead.  "But,  thank  God,  there's  salt  money 
enough  left  yet  for  this  house  of  yours ;  that  is, 
by   mortgaging   my   son's   house." 

And   he   heaved   a   sigh. 

Then  Laura  came  in,  sweet  and  sunny,  in 
pretty  evening  dress.  Seeing  them  busy,  she 
passed  on  into  the  adjacent  parlors  and  touched 
the  piano  lightly.  The  two  old  folks  became 
tranquil  in  the  music,  and  got  on  their  smiles 
again.     After  a  while   the  captain  called  to  her: 

"Come  in,  my  child.  I  say,  your  husband  will 
ue   in   town   to-morrow ! " 

"Oh,   papa,    Mark  here?" 

And  she  flew  at  them,  color  enough  now, 
kissing  them  both,  and  then  swooping  down  on 
a  hassock  at  the  old  man's  side,  too  eager  to 
sisk,  but  waiting  for  more   news. 


266  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

"That  is,  he  will  be  at  the  store,  my  dears. 
I  have  asked  him  to  get  a  furlough  long  enough 
to  come  home  and  sign  some  important  business 
papers." 

"At  the  store,  indeed,  father!"  exclaimed  the 
elder  lady.  "But  of  course  we  shall  have  him 
up  here  for  a  week,  at  least.  Think  of  that, 
young  lady ! "  with  a  love  tap  of  her  fan  on  the 
charming   upturned   head. 

But  the  charming  head  had  been  using  its 
eyes  on  the  old  face,  and  read  enough  to  drop 
on   the   knee   before   the   old    lips   replied: 

"Why,   no,    I   fear    not,   messmates." 

Then   clearing   his   throat : 

"  Fact  is,  I  had  great  difficulty  in  getting  the 
colonel  —  " 

"  Colonel } "  Laura  glances  up.  "  He  has  his 
promotion  then !  He  was  to  telegraph  me,  so 
his   letter  said." 

"  He  is  coming  to  tell  you  himself,  dear  one." 
esumed  the  captain.  "  What,  most  ready  to 
cry }     Look,    mother,    at   those   eyes." 

But  the  eyes  were  too  quick  for  them  both 
and   were   hidden   again   on   the   paternal   knee. 

"  But,  father,"  Mrs.  Broon,  the  elder,  took  it 
up,  "that  is  splendid  news  in  our  time  of  trou 
ble." 


NOT  TO  BE  CAMP-FOLLOWERS,  267 


"  Hush !  Trouble  ?  "  with  a  warning  look  from 
the  captain. 

But  that  was  another  straw  for  Laura,  and 
she  braided  it  quickly,  though  silently,  into  the 
suspicions   she   had   long   been   at  work   upon. 

"  Yes ;  but  a  colonel  can  do  as  he  pleases,  I 
should    suppose,"   resumed   the   elder   wife. 

"On  the  contrary,  his  promotion  runs  right 
across  our  bows.  He  has  been  half-expectin'  it 
for  two  weeks,  or  we  would  have  had  him 
home  here  on  a  furlough  before  this.  Now 
that  he  has  his  regiment  in  hand  he  must  be 
on  deck  all  the  while.  Everything  is  gettin' 
ready  to  sail,  at  Washington.  Discipline  and 
drill,  preparing  for  the  great  ^*0n  to  Richmond" 
that  you  read  about  in  the  morning  papers. 
Why,  it  took  two  governors  and  three  generals, 
all  friends  of  mine,  to  get  this  boy  leave  of  ab- 
sence  long   enough   to   run   on   here  for  a  day." 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  fill  up  the 
remnant  of  the  fevered  evening  with  consulting 
railway  time-tables,  counting  the  hours,  and  re- 
ducing them  to  the  minutes  that  Mark  could  be 
in  town  ;  subtracting  the  moments  necessary  for 
the  business  transaction  ;  planning  the  lunch  at  a 
down-town  hotel,  where  at  least  they  could  .all 
have    a    little    family    privacy;  and     ordering     the 


268  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

carriage  for  the  morning  in  time  to  cross  and 
meet  Mark  on  the  Jersey  side  of  the  ferry. 
Somehow  the  whole  evening  was  almost  happily 
spent   over   such   delightful   trifles. 

Yet  Laura  took  most  of  the  night  to  add  to 
the  arrangements ;  planning  and  plotting,  even 
daring  to  attempt  opposition  to  the  authority  of 
the  government  itself,  and  keep  him  a  day ; 
planning  and  plotting,  and  counting  the  chimes 
that  struck  the  hours  from  a  neighboring  steeple 
upon  the  lifeless  air  of  the  brazen  night,  and 
only  falling  asleep  for  a  little  towards  morning 
after  she  had  thought  out  everything,  even  to 
the  minutest  details  of  the  dressing  that  should 
please  him  most,  "which  is  not  easy  to  decide," 
she  murmured  to  herself,  "for  how  little  I  know 
of  my  husband's  tastes  in  matters  of  dress ! " 
However,  the  womanliness  of  the  thought  gave 
nature  sway  once  more,  and  with  her  prayers 
finally   said,    she   fell    asleep. 

"  I  have  ordered  an  extra  carriage  for  mother 
and  me,  my  dear,"  was  the  captain's  salutation 
in  the  morning  as  soon  as  Laura  descended  the 
stairs. 

The  old  man  was  pacing  the  parlors,  hands 
behind  him,  in  the  old  swaggering,  quarter-deck 
walk.     And    you    may    as    well    know    it,    reader 


NOT  TO  BE  CAMP-FOLLOWERS,  269 

he  had  been  pacing  there  a  good  part  of  the 
night. 

"You  will  take  our  carriage,  with  old  Ned  to 
drive';  you  know  Ned's  safe  as  —  as  the  Union 
itself.  Go  over  and  meet  Mark,  and  come  with 
him   to   the   office." 

So  you  may  picture  her,  under  the  old  sheds 
across  the  North  River,  that  serve  the  richest 
of  railway  corporations  for  a  station,  waiting  an 
hour  later  the  rumble  of  the  train.  You  may 
picture  the  rumbling  train  itself;  the  final  hiss 
of  steam  and  the  halt ;  the  crowd  of  people 
drumming  the  plank  walks  with  eager,  hastening 
heels,  and  pouring  about  the  few  carriages  like 
a  gray  sea;  the  weary,  anxious  people,  the  ex- 
cited people  who  tramped  into  the  metropolis 
those  mornings,  not  knowing  what  a  day  would 
bring  forth ;  people  snatching  at  the  morning 
papers  as  they  rubbed  their  eyes  open  to  the 
early  light ;  people  who  turned  and  wiped  their 
perspiring  brows,  and  looked  with  envy  on  the 
few  luxurious  carriages  that  would  save  some 
fellow  a  hot  walk  ;  and  people,  too,  who  stopped 
to  gaze  on  the  erect  form,  in  handsome  uni- 
form, guessing  at  the  shoulder-straps,  and  making 
all  sort3  of  blunders  as  to  the  rank  indicated  in 
those    days    when    it     was   all    new    to    them,  of 


270  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


Mark  Broon,  who  was  threading  his  way  promptly 
through  the  crowd  towards  old  Ned's  white, 
woolly   head   and   the   horses   easily  recognized. 

You  may  picture  the  bride  of  weeks,  too,  at 
first  face  at  window,  then  demurely  shrinking 
back  to  her  corner,  laughing  eyes  easily  distin- 
guishing the  handsome  comer,  as  he  towered 
mostly  above  the  gray  sea,  wondering  if  he 
guessed  who  was  in  the  shadowed  vehicle,  face 
glowing  against  the  blue  silk,  lips  apart,  and 
ready  to  speak,  fingers  toying  with  the  hand- 
rest,    the   hands   ready   to   be   outstretched. 

'•  Now ! " 

"Well,  well,  it  is  worth  worlds  to  be  here, 
even  for  a  few  hours,  isn't  it,  Laura  ?  At  any 
rate,   I   think   so." 

"Do  not  colonels  ever  take  their  wives  along 
with    them  ? " 

"How  should  I  know,  now,  sweetheart,  what 
colonels  do  ?  I  've  been  a  colonel  only  about  two 
days." 

"Which    is   a   kind   way   of   saying  no." 

"That  is,  at  present,  Laura.  We  expect  every 
day  to  —  to  —  how   do   you   like   it  ? " 

For  she  was  nervously  fingering  the  eagle  on 
his  shoulder,  and  he  would  talk  about  that  rather 
thaE    "advances  into   the   enemy's  country." 


NOT  TO  BE  CAMP-FOLLOWERS,  271 

**I  think  you  look  like  a  general.  Oh,  how 
becoming  it  all  is!  If  only  there  wasn't  any 
danger  !  " 

"  Well,  now,"  imprisoning  her  hands,  "  tell  me 
all  about  yourself;  everything  that  you  have  been 
doing,  and  let 's  leave  the  wars  a  thousand  miles 
away,  for  this  day.  What  splendid  letters  you 
write   me.     I   feast  on   them." 

And  that  made  up  the  ride  to  the  office : 
things  that  count  for  nothing  in  histories;  yet 
happy  the  heart  whose  histories  are  made  up  of 
such  beatific  nothings.  This,  however,  was  said, 
which  is  of  public  importance,  just  before  they 
reached   the   store : 

"  By  the  way,  Laura,  to  whom  do  you  sup- 
pose I  have  orders  to  report,  here  in  town  t 
Prepare   to   be   surprised." 

"More  business,  besides  your  father's?  It's 
too  badl     It's   just   wicked!" 

'*  Now,  now,  you  little  rebel  !  But  guess 
whom.  No,  you  cannot.  I  '11  tell  you.  I  must 
call  on  our  friend,  Col.  Erastus  Smiles,  in 
char  J  ol  transports  for  troops  here.  That  is, 
he  ■  >  the  chartering  of  steamers  for  govern- 
ment use.  What  do  you  think  of  that?"  with 
a  good-nature  J    laugh,   notwithstanding. 

"Report  tu  him?  Is  he  more  of  a  colone. 
than  you  are?"   with   charming  resentment. 


2^2 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


"My  superior,  you  mean?"  laughing  heartily. 
**  Oh,  dear,  no.  It  only  transpires  that,  as  he  is 
supposed  to  have  vessels  in  readiness  for  all 
uses   like   mine — " 

**  What  uses  can  you  have  for  ships,  my  lord  ? 
Are  they  going  to  send  you  to  some  more  in- 
accessible place  than  even  that  Virginia  camp 
over  the   Potomac?" 

"  Maybe ;  I  can  never  tell.  It  makes  no  dif- 
ference, my  good  wife,  where  we  are  sent,  so 
we  close  this  miserable  business  within  the 
next  three  months,  does  it  ?  I  may  be  sent  to 
South  Carolina.  I  would  like  to  take  my  boys 
down   to   that   rascally,   plucky   Charleston." 

"Oh,  you  are  a  real  soldier  boy,  I  see.  I 
can  have  no  effect  on  you  if  I  try,  —  which  I 
would  not,  Mark.  No ;  I'm  going  to  send  you 
off  with  a  cheer;  I  truly  am.  Indeed,  I  think 
if  I  did  not,  you  would  never  come  back  to 
me ;  for  your  heart  is  in  this  war.  Now,  no 
doubt,  you  can  find  it  possible  to  even  think 
well  of  Erastus  Smiles,  since  he's  a  comrade  in 
arms,"    almost   pouting   at    him. 

"I  certainly  hope  so,  Laura,  though  his  situ- 
ation is  not  the  most  self-sacrificing  in  the 
world.  However,  someone  must  perform  the  du- 
ties  given   to   him.     But   here   we  are." 


NOT  TO  BE  CAMP-FOLLOWERS,  273 

"Well,  Bob,  God  bless  the  boy!"  exclaimed 
the  old  captain ;  and  he  embraced  his  son. 
"  Come  inside.  Have  n't  much  time.  Thank 
Heaven  I  see  ye  once  more.  But  say  a  word 
of  salute  to  mother  and  come  inside,  yes,  in- 
side." 

"Ah,  mother,"  said  Mark,  cordially,  "it  is  good 
as  a  feast  to  see  you,"  and  he  kissed  her.  "Now 
I'll  obey  my  father  like  a  dutiful  son,  and  go 
into  the  private  office  awhile.  Is  he  very  much 
affected,  do  you  think,  mother.?  That  is,  has  it 
told  on  his  strength  to  any  perceptible  degree, 
do   you   think  ? " 

"What  told  on  his  strength?"  with  a  look  of 
alarm. 

"  Do  n*t  you  know  all  about  it  ? "  with  a  sur- 
prised   pause. 

Then  glancing  at-  Laura  his  face  fell;  but 
promptly  collecting  himself  he  conducted  the  two 
ladies  into  the  prettily  furnished  nook  devoted 
to  favored  visitors,  just  back  of  the  row  of 
book-keepers,  and  saw  them  seated.  He  said 
nothing  more ;  indeed,  it  was  not  necessary,  for 
what  could  one  say,  unless  he  said  the  worst .? 
And  this,  it  was  evident,  could  not  be  adjourned 
long.  An  atmosphere  of  gloom  enveloped  the 
whole  establishment.     It   was  visible  in  the  nods 


274  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

of  recognition  which  everybody  gave  him  and 
them  as  they  passed ;  it  was  an  unmistakable  pity 
which   softened   every   sombre   countenance. 

Mark  followed  his  father  through  the  private 
doors.  What  an  interminable  hour  that  was 
which   followed ! 

"I  have  counted  every  window  in  that  front 
opposite.  Just  sixty  windows,  mamma,"  said 
Laura,  demurely,  standing  and  gazing  out.  "And 
I  can  see  twenty-three  persons,  at  various  desks, 
through  the  various  windows,  all  writing.  I 
wonder  if  the  war  makes  any  of  them  misera 
ble." 

Still  no  answer,  and  so  a  quick  challenge  at 
last  : 

"  What   are  you   thinking  about,   mamma } " 

"  I } "  recalled  to  herself,  was  the  elder  lady's 
reply.  **  I  was  thinking  that  those  clerks  out 
there  knew  more  about  us,  our  affairs,  I  mean, 
than  you  and  I  do.  Close  the  door,  my  child, 
and  come  sit  down  by  me.  It  is  plainly  my 
duty  to  begin  this  sad  story.  It  will  be  easier 
for  you  to  hear  what  our  husbands  have  to  say 
when   they   come   out   to   us." 

"I  believe  I  know  what  you  will  say,"  was 
Laura's  instant  answer,  approaching  and  standing 
erect   in   front   of    Mrs.    Broon.     "We    are    going 


NOT  TO  BE  CAMP-FOLLOWERS,  275 

to  be  poor.  Well,  what  of  that  ?  I  did  not 
marry  Mark  for  his  money,  you  know,  mamma 
Broon." 

"We  all  know  that,  my  dear.  But — but  you 
have  no  idea  how  much  it  costs  to  live  here  in 
town,   and   what   changes  —  '* 

"  I  have  property,"  with  two  small  gloves  ex- 
tended,  palms   open. 

"  Which  you  will  need  to  prosecute  Dr.  Smiles, 
and  defend   your  mother's   home   against   him." 

"Oh,  has  mamma  indeed  done  that  wicked 
thing  at  last.?  and  in  spite  of  her  last  letter's 
assurances }  And  you  have  known  it,  and  kept 
it  from   me  .? "    reproachfully. 

This  further  distress  swept  over  the  courageous 
girl  like  an  added  gust  when  a  tree  has  well 
faced  the  hardest  of  the  storm.  She  dropped 
instantly  into  a  chair,  overcome  even  more  by 
the  sense  of  the  long-dreaded  social  humiliation 
than  by  the  fear   of  pecuniary   calamities. 

"You  know  the  man  has  become  quite  a  hero 
up  there,  of  late,  by  the  stand  he  has  taken 
regarding  the  war.  And  his  son  has  gone  to 
the  war.  Your  mother  evidently  has  been  glad 
to  welcome  him  again,  and  even  your  uncle 
found  his  wife  and  Madge  deceived,  it  seems, 
when  he  arrived   there  yesterday.     At  all    events, 


276  A    WEDDING  IN   WAR-TIME. 

he  has  telegraphed  my  husband  that  your  moth- 
er has  actually  signed  papers  by  which  Smiles 
leases  the  farm  for  his  preposterous  sanitary 
affair   for  a  term   of  years." 

"  Oh,  God,  help  me  I  help  me !  I  must  go 
to—" 

"  No,  you  must  go  nowhere  just  yet,"  said 
the  other  lady,  tenderly  taking  the  poor,  shame- 
faced   girl    in    her    arms. 

Indeed,  they  were  both  now  on  their  feet, 
and  Laura's  face  was  hidden  on  her  friend's 
shoulder. 

"Now  it  has  been  all  very  abrupt  and  wrong, 
perhaps,"  resumed  the  elder  lady,  soothingly,  "to 
tell  you  this  here.  But  what  else  could  I  do} 
I  thought,  perhaps,  it  would  be  easier  for  you 
to  hear  it  jij^t  when  you  could  pour  it  all  into 
your  husband's  ear." 

"  My  husband ! "  cried  Laura,  lifting  her  face. 
"  It  is  as  if  I  had  no  husband.  I  have  never 
been  two  hours  in  his  society  alone  since  we 
were  wed." 

"  Oh,  dear  child,  that  is  true.  It  all  comes 
of  these  weddings  in  war-time.  I  don't  know 
as  we  shall   ever  see  you  together." 

"  I  know  we  never  shall  belong  to  each  other," 
said  Laura.     "I  have  had  a  dream  of  late  — " 


NOT   TO  BE  CAMP-FOLLOWERS,  277 


"Hush,  child.  Believe  in  God.  Dreams  are 
unreliable,"    the  elder   Mrs.    Broon   exclaimed. 

"Captain  Broon,"  the  young  wife  suddenly 
cried  out,  looking  up  as  that  gentleman  opened 
the  door  of  the  inner  office,  his  old  face  fur- 
rowed and  fevered.  "Papa  Broon,"  she  changed 
it  in  pathetic  entreaty,  "you  assured  me  that  the 
great   God   would   hear   prayer ! " 

"Yes,   yes,    little   one,    he   will" 

But  the  old  man  was  so  shaken  by  sight 
of  her  that  he  halted  in  his  tracks,  as  in  his 
speech,  and  the  documents  in  his  hands  trem- 
bled  as   if  a   wind   was   rustling   them. 

"Let  us  pass,  father,"  said  Mark,  almost 
rudely  putting  that  gentleman  aside  from  the 
doorway.  "Laura.?"  and  in  a  moment  his  out- 
stretched arms  had  almost  taken  her  from  his 
mother. 

"No,  Mark,  no!"  with  a  quick  step  back- 
ward, away  from  them  all.  "  I  have  been  the 
means   of  family  disgrace   to  you." 

"You   certainly  have   not,"   said   the   mother. 

"  Dear  little   craft,   no ! "    the   captain's  roar. 

"My  precious  wife,"  cried  Mark,  "how  can 
any  fault  attach  to  you.?"  and  he  had  her  in 
spite  of  herself,  caressing  her  tenderly.  "  You 
must   not,   for  an   instant,   indulge   such  thoughts, 


2jZ  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

Laura.  We  need  all  our  courage,  all  our  self- 
respect,  all  our  fidelity  to  each  other,  now.  I 
assure  you  that  we  cannot  afferd  to  indulge 
anything  like   family   vanity  — " 

"  Never  had  it,  boy !  Never  were  proud  of 
being  rich,  Mark,  never ! "    put  in  the  captain. 

"I  know,  father.  But  perhaps  she  might  be 
excused  if  she  had  attributed  to  us  a  trifle  of 
that  common  failing,"  resumed  the  young  hus- 
band, dropping  on  a  chair,  with  his  wife  on  his 
knee.  "At  all  events,  Laura,  we  must  go  down 
into  the  vale  of  humble  things  now.  We  are  all 
poor   together." 

"  Dear  Mark,"  she  protested,"  that  is  not  it 
at  all.  It  is  the  thought  of  your  being  involved, 
through  me,  with — with  people  of  such  —  such 
disgraceful  superstitions — and  —  and  an  unbecom- 
ing lawsuit  about  poor  mamma's  property,  and 
all  your  friends  saying,  *  Did  he  marry  into  such 
a  crazy  family  as  that }  *  And  father  Broon  has 
such   a   horror   of   that   kind   of   people!" 

They  let  her  sob  it  out.  After  an  interval  of 
silent  waiting,  Mark  resumed,  addressing  his  wife 
in   tender   tones  : 

"But,  Laura,  trust  us  that  we  do  not  for  a 
moment  entertain  such  sentiments.  How  are 
you    at  fault.?     Unless    you    suffer  your    pride  to 


NOT  TO  BE  CAMP-FOLLOWERS,  279 

attribute  to  us  what  we  will  not  acknowledge, 
then  you  would  be  at  fault,  my  precious  wife. 
Now  take  good  heart.  There,  I  felt  certain  that 
you  would.  Trust,  trust.  All  our  life  must  be 
one   of  trust   now.     We   are   all   poor  together."    • 

"But  you  would  never  be  happy  to  return  to 
your   dear   Eaglecroft   with   me." 

This   with   downcast   eyes. 

"I  have  sold  it;  or  mortgaged  it  for  all  it  is 
worth." 

The    two    ladies   stared   at   the    two    gentlemen 
The    young   man's   face   was    bright    and    resolute 
enough,   but    the    old    man's   face  was    indescriba- 
bly sad. 

"But  —  but  I  shall  mortify  you  just  as  much 
here  in   town,"   resumed    Laura. 

"We  shall  rent  the  town  house  to  pay  small 
debts,"  said  the  old  captain,  in  turn,  his  face 
now   brightening  with   resolution. 

"  Father,  is  it  as  bad  as  that } "  asked  his 
wife,  very  softly,  yet  with  a  world  of  meaning 
in   her  suppressed   tones. 

"  I  was  afraid  to  say  it  till  Mark  came  and 
helped  me   out,"   was   his   response. 

"What   are   we   to   do.?" 

This  the  elder  lady,  unable  altogether  to  con- 
trol her  distress,  and  showing  a  cheek  bloodless 
for  the  first   time  in  many  years. 


28o  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


"I'll  tell  you  what  we  are  to  do,  good  moth- 
er," said  the  colonel,  placing  Laura  in  a  seat, 
and  providing  one  for  his  father,  with  a  kind- 
ness not  to  be  disobeyed,  and  then  taking  his 
stand  before  the  group  in  a  cheery  way.  "  Father 
will  take  a  ship  for  perhaps  a  year.  His  old 
English  friends  will  be  only  too  glad  to  put  the 
best  ship  of  the  line  at  his  disposal.  We  shall 
turn  over  all  our  property,  according  to  a  plan 
father   has   already   sketched   out." 

"Except  resin  and  tar,  child.  Resin  and  tar 
in  store.  Be  exact,  boy,"  said  the  old  man, 
drumming  his   feet   on   the   carpet. 

"Well,  father,  of  course,  to  be  exact.  But  the 
ladies  would  hardly  understand  about  your  spec- 
ulation in  a  loft  full  of  resin  and  a  cellar  full 
of  tar,"  laughed  Mark.  "Nor  do  I  either, 
quite." 

"Yes,  tell  us,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Charles,  who 
was   not  a   dullard   at   business,   after    all. 

"Why,  you  see,  wife,"  said  the  captain  eagerly, 
"we  veer  round  and  mortgage  and  lighten  ship 
generally,  by  throwing  overboard  everything  to 
pay  our  debts.  Then  I  tell  Bob  that  we  have 
'nuff  o'  those  two  products  of  Florida,  resin  and 
tar,  to  make  a  clean  new  fortune,  if  we  keep 
it  for  two   years,  if  the   war  should   last   as    long. 


NOT  TO  BE  CAMP-FOLLOWERS,  2S1 

They  are  only  to  be  got  in  Florida,  and  Flor- 
ida is  closed  to  all  the  world.  Why,  every  bar- 
rel of  tar  has  increased  ten  cents'  worth  since 
we  begun   talkin'." 

"Well,  father,"  Mark  broke  in,  "that  is  your 
experiment.  Go  ahead.  But  we  can't  exactly 
live  on   resin   and   tar  meanwhile." 

"Sell  a  little  at  a  time,  or  borrow  money  on 
them,"    Laura  ventured,  curiously   enough. 

"  Ah,  you  Yankee ! "  shouted  Mark,  and  made 
her  smile  and  blush  in  spite  of  herself.  "  But 
we  have  had  to  borrow  about  as  much  money 
on  the  stock  now  as  we  can.  See }  At  any 
rate,"  taking  up  her  hand  and  fondling  it,  "we 
are  to  send  you  two  ladies  to  sea  for  a  few 
voyages,  in  the  cabin  of  father's  steamer.  That 
will  be  living  in  a  palace,  only  it  will  be  afloat. 
You  will  not  mind  hotel  life  occasionally  in 
port,  for  a  while.  And  I  shall  be  quite  busy 
with  a  certain  little  unpleasantness  here  in 
America,   meanwhile.     Eh  ? " 

Silence  all   round. 

"And     now,     dear     hearts,"      Mark     resumes 
straightening    up,    "we    haven't    much    time    for 
anything  but   doing   the    thing    in    hand.     I   must 
go     report     to     this     new    colonel,     who    charters 
transports;    and    my  wife  is  going  with   me.     Be 


282  A    WEDDING  IN   WAR-TIME, 

sure  of  that.  I'll  not  let  her  out  of  my  sight 
during  this  day,"  and  he  stood  waiting  her  com- 
pliance with  the  word,  still  keeping  up  finely,  it 
must  be  confessed,  the  semblance  of  good  cheer 
and   playfulness. 

Laura  had  his  arm  in  a  moment,  with  a  wifely 
resolution  to  be  very  brave.  But  she  could  not 
repress   a  sob. 

"  Poor  mamma,  with  his  father,  up  in  the 
country ! " 

"  Our  attorney  will  attend  to  all  that,  love ; 
and  I  hope,  by  your  second  voyage  over,  that 
your  mother  will  be  here  ready  to  accompany 
you." 

They  were  about  entering  the  carriage  at  the 
office   door. 

"  But,  Mark,  I  cannot,  cannot,  cannot  go 
away  over  the  ocean,  and  not  see  mamma 
again." 

She  stood  holding  the  door  of  the  coup^ 
irresolutely,  as  if  to  enter  might  be  an  embark- 
ation. 

"Why,  Laura,"  with  just  the  slightest  shade 
of  expostulation,  and  for  the  instant  almost  drop- 
ping off  his  mask  of  brightness,  "what  else 
can  you   do.?" 

"I   will  —  will  go  with  you." 


NOT  TO  BE  CAMP-FOLLOWERS.  283 

"And  do  you  know,  child,  that  I  suspect  they 
mean  to  send  me  to  sea,  regiment  and  all, 
down   South,   along   the   Gulf  somewhere  ? " 

"In   a   ship   of   that   man's   providing?" 

It  came  like  a  brush  of  lightning  along  the 
low   horizon   in   the   night. 

"  What  ? "  said  Mark,  an  exclamation  which 
we  use  when  we  know  not  what  else  to  say, 
as   he   handed   her  in. 

The  noise  of  Broadway  always  compels  silence 
for  the  first  few  moments,  as  you  drive  into  it. 
Meanwhile  the  new  suspicion  of  his  wife  got  a 
little  hold  upon  even  Colonel  Broon's  healthy 
mind.  Then,  too,  these  were  days  of  suspicion. 
No  one  could  tell  who  was  his  friend,  who  foe, 
especially  in  New  York,  and  if  one  wore  a 
conspicuous  uniform  at  which  street  urchins 
were  constantly  calling  attention.  The  presence 
of  his  wife  made  the  young  officer  decidedly 
nervous  before  they  had  traversed  a  hundred 
yards.  She,  too,  noticed  the  all-sorts  of  sharp 
eyes  and  pointing  fingers  directed  at  their  win- 
dows. She  clutched  at  his  arm,  and  shrunk 
back.  He  snatched  at  the  curtain,  as,  rousing 
himself,   he   answered   her   eyes : 

"Laura,  that  is  a  ridiculous  fear.  Smiles  is  a 
loyal  officer  in  the   Union  army,  with    rank    and 


284  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

interest     preventing   any,  —  why,   what   am   I    say 
ing  ?     How   absurd  !  " 

Conversation  in  a  street  roar  is  half  conjec- 
ture at  best ;  here  a  word,  then  a  silence,  while 
you  try  to  guess  its  meaning,  and  what  your 
friend   is   thinking,   and  *  then   another   word. 

"Absurd  that  the  Smiles  people  should  seek 
to  destroy  you,"  with  a  closer  winding  of  the 
hands   about   his    arm. 

"Would  be  treason.  Man  would  be  shot. 
Send  a  whole  regiment  to  the  bottom  t  Too 
horrible.  You  are  all  unstrung,"  patting  her 
cheek,  and  on  second  thought  himself  quite  re- 
assured were  it  not  for  an  occasional  glance  out 
of  the  window  on  his  side,  as  an  ugly  truck- 
driver   shook   a   fist   at   him. 

Fearing  that  Laura  might  catch  sight  of  some 
token  of  the  great  city's  questionable  loyalty,  he 
pulled   the   other   curtain   also. 

"The   hot   sun,    my   dear.     A  scorching   day." 

"  Can  Doctor  Smiles  be  true  to  anything } 
Do  you  suppose  safe  treason  would  seem  any 
obstacle   to   him,    if   it  served   his   ends } " 

"  My  dear  girl,  how  cold  your  hands  are. 
You  *11  be  in  hysterics  yet,"  trying  to  laugh,  as 
if  that  were  clear  jest.  "It  is  the  son,  not 
the    old  fox,   that   I   have    anything    to    do    with. 


NOT  TO  BE  CAMP-FOLLO'fVERS.  285 

I  *11  not  indulge  this  humor  in  you  another 
moment,  darling.  Here  we  are  wasting  the  few 
precious   moments   we   have   together." 

"But  I  was  reading  only  last  week,  in  one  of 
your  father's  books,  about  English  sailors  being 
sent  to  sea  in  rotten  ships,  simply  to  get  the 
insurance  when  the  old  things  foundered.  And 
we  talked  about  it,  and  your  father  became  so 
eloquent,  and  he  said  it  might  be  just  the  — " 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,  you  poor  little  heart.  Father 
did  n  't  say  that  it  would  be  just  the  trick  for 
traitors.  You  have  supplied  that  from  imagina- 
tion.    Now  you   know  you   have." 

And  he  insisted  on  this  interpretation  so  stoutly, 
and  with  such  an  air  of  comforting  confidence, 
that  he  almost  chased  the  unlucky  hint  of  his 
father's   out   of  her   confused   mind. 

"Now  here  we  are,"  he  went  on,  "at  this 
young  gentleman 's  office.  Not  a  bit  like  camps 
of  war,  is  it?  I'll  leave  you  here  just  a  mo- 
ment, and  when  I  come  back  I  '11  tell  you  that 
Colonel  Smiles  has  actually  done  me  a  favor." 

"  Do  n't  ask  one  of  him,"  and  she  made  a  mo- 
tion  to  follow  him. 

"Of  course,  if  you  prefer  to  go  in  with  me.  I 
thought  it  might  not  be  pleasant.  Perhaps,  then, 
at  sight  of  you  he  '11  offer  a  favor  without  my 
asking." 


286  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

"What  possible  favor?"  as  they  were  ascend- 
ing the   steps. 

"Who  knows,  now,  if  he  be  the  changed  man 
that  he  ought  to  be  to  enlist  under  the  flag,  that 
he  will  be  just  chivalric  and  romantic  enough  to 
give  me  a  choice  of  transports.  A  week  later, 
for  instance,"   beaming   on   her. 

''Then  it  is  truly,  indeed,  a  question  of  trans- 
porting you  away  down  South,  and  you  have 
known   it   all   the  while!" 

He  answered  only  with  a  curious  turning  of 
his  handsome  face.  Could  the  men  tell  the 
women,  moment  by  moment,  all  that  they  knew 
of  this  business  of  war,  any  more  than  they 
can,  in  prosy  days,  the  business  of  money-mak- 
ing ?  Time  enough  for  women  to  know  when 
the   thing   is   done. 

"Stop!" 

She  got  the  door-knob  into  her  small,  strong 
hand   before   him. 

"Would  that  mean  a  week  here  in  New  York 
with   me  ? " 

What  a  challenge  was  in  her  wonderful  face! 

"I  was  in  hopes  of  surprising  you.  But,  love, 
it  is  a  mere  frail  hope,  not  worth  counting  on. 
Perhaps  you  had  better  not  entertain  it,  and 
thus   not   be  disappointed." 


NOT  TO  BE  CAMP-FOLLOWERS.  287 

"But  it  would  mean  that,  a  week  with  me,  if 
he  offered  you  a  change  of  vessels;  from  romance, 
if  you  please,  seeing  the  young  wife  at  your 
side?" 

She  still   held   the   door. 

"Yes;  and  I  had  concluded  that  it  wculd  be 
consistent  with  my  duty  to  accept.  But  I  '11  not 
ask  it,  and  there's  no  real  likelihood  of  such  a 
wild   dream." 

"  If  he  offers  it,  do  not  do  it.  No,  much  as  I 
crave  to  have  your  dear  society.  Rather  wait 
till  forty  battles  have  passed,  and  your  God  has 
kept  you  through  them  all,  in  the  hope  of  our 
sitting  hand  in  hand  for  an  hour  or  a  day  all  our 
own.  Do  the  very  thing  contrary  to  his  sugges- 
tions !     He  has   no   right   to  order  you." 

"  Not  of  himself.  He  receives  orders  from  his 
superior  officers.  Now  I  must  enter,  little  wom- 
an. Take  my  arm,"  and  he  put  the  arm  that 
now  yielded  through  his  own,  and  passed  up 
into  the  room. 


288  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


XIII. 

THE  TWO  COLONELS  MEET. 

TT  was  the  usual  long,  narrow  "store"  of 
lower  Broadway,  running  through  from  street 
to  street  which  the  government  had  hastily  leased 
for  its  use.  Bare,  white  walls,  hung  with  dingy 
paintings  of  the  "Collins  Line,"  and  various  other 
ancient  craft  which  the  former  tenant  had  not 
thought  worth  while  to  remove.  Rows  of  desks 
and  enclosures  for  many  scribbling  clerks,  over 
whom  the  hot  gas-lights  blazed  at  noon.  The 
private  office  might  have  been  in  the  dim  far 
back,  whose  dingy  windows  shed  a  struggling 
gray  light  part  way  down  the  room.  The  front 
office,  a  sort  of  reception  room  within  a  railing, 
illumined  by  the  flashing  sun  from  the  east  for 
the  last  two  hours,  and  hence  the  drawn  blue 
curtains,  on  which  were  blazoned  gilt  letterings 
and   the   United    States   coat   of   arms. 

Within  the  enclosure,  on  the  richly  carpeted 
floor,  a  private  desk  and  chair,  and  Erastus  Smiles, 
bending    to    his    work    with    such    devotion    that 


THE   TWO  COLONELS  MEET.  289 

he  had  not  noticed  that  the  meridian  sun  had 
left  his  apartments  in  the  almost  blue  darkness 
which   the   curtains   occasioned. 

Many  were  coming  and  going.  The  toiling 
writer  paid  no  heed,  but  bent  still  at  his  hon- 
est industry,  searching  papers,  passing  and  re- 
passing documents  as  he  signed  them,  now  pen 
between  his  teeth,  now  in  his  nervous  fingers. 
Colonel  Smiles  wore  no  uniform  whatever,  ex- 
cept a  military  cap.  None,  except  here  and 
there  a  visitor,  wore  uniforms.  And  yet  I  re- 
member that  the  door-keeper,  who  with  a  look 
of  surprise  bustled  about  to  find  a  chair  for  a 
lady  caller,  Mrs.  Broon,  was  dressed  in  the 
regulation  light  and  dark  blue  of  a  private 
soldier,  and  he  had  his  right  arm  in  a  sling. 
It  was  he  alone  who  returned  Colonel  Broon's 
salute.  It  was  he  who  took  the  colonel's  card 
politely,  as  he  saw  that  the  writer  at  the  desk 
had  not  noticed  his  visitors  among  so  many 
that  came  and  went,  and  bent  over  the  rail  to 
say: 

''Colonel  Smiles,  Colonel  Broon — and  a  lady." 

Pen     between     teeth,    and     with   a   toss   of     the 

head    upward,    Smiles    instantly   snatched    off     his 

cap,    and    sprung     to     his    feet.     Then     advancing 

with     unmistakable     cordiality   under    the    exierior 


290  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

of  a  rather  stiffly-worn  military  salute  ( fresh 
volunteer  that  he  was,  you  can  excuse  him,  and 
of  all  men  awkward  Erastus  Smiles ),  he  put  out 
his   hand   with ; 

"  Colonel  Broon  I  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons ! 
We  are  driven  to  death  here.  You  are  just 
from   the  front,   too.     The  glorious   front ! " 

His  fine  pride  prevented  his  saying  that  he 
would  himself  have  preferred  the  glorious  front ; 
but  Mark  Broon  was  too  generous  a  man  not  to 
read   as    much   in   this   earnest,    homely   face. 

"Expected  you,  Colonel.  •  Come  right  in.  A 
chair,"  he  was  continuing,  with  increasing  rather 
than  lessening  embarrassment,  when  suddenly  he 
caught   sight   of   the   lady. 

"Mrs.    Broon.?" 

''  Why,  yes,  Colonel,"  Mark  replied.  "  Really 
the  only  day  we  have  had  together  since  our 
wedding,  and  I  suppose  I  must  return  to- 
night." 

Erastus  Smiles  was  bowing  almost  reverently 
to  Laura,  yet  not  offering  to  approach  her.  His 
rugged  features  worked  for  an  instant  under  a 
shadow  of  pain,  which  lent  them  interest,  if  not 
attractiveness.  The  sudden  after-glow  of  manli- 
ness that  marked  his  recovery  of  self-mastery, 
gave     his    face     almost   a   handsome     look.     Then, 


THE   TWO  COLONELS  MEET,  291 


too,  this  officer,  with  earnest  and  honest  affairs 
in'  mind,  had  changed  greatly  since  they  saw 
him  last,  not  a  month  ago.  Mark  was  sure  he 
saw  it,  and  Laura  might  have  seen  it  had  she 
been  wilHng  to  study  for  a  patient  moment  the 
countenance  from  which  her  eyes  were  instantly 
turned  towards  the  pictured  ships  on  the  blank 
walls. 

*'I  regret,"  rejoined  Smiles,  "that  I  have  any- 
thmg  to  do  with  the  further  separation  of  bride 
and  groom.  No }  You  will  not  sit }  Very 
well,  ril  be  brief  then.  You  were  about  to 
report  to  this  office,  as  I  am  advised  by  tele- 
graph from  headquarters,  to  ascertain  what 
steamer,  if  any,  we  could  at  once  provide  for 
the  transportation  of  your  regiment  and  three 
others.  By  the  way,  Colonel,"  with  an  easy 
laugh,  and  recovering  something  of  the  confidence 
of  a  business  man  again,  *'  that  looks  very  much 
as  if  you  might  be  booked  for  a  star  on  your 
shoulder   straps   in    place   of   that    eagle." 

**You  astonish  me,  Colonel  Smiles.  Am  I  to 
command  the  brigade.**"  and  Broon  flushed  so 
red  with  sudden  excitement  and  pleasure  that  it 
was    perceptible    through    his    bronze. 

"Well,  comrade,  it  is  a  shrewd  guess  ol 
mine.     1   only    know    that     there     are     four     regi- 


292 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


ments  to  provide  for,  and  you  are  ordered  to 
report  here  for  their  satisfactory  accommodation. 
I  am  sincerely  glad  that  it  fell  to  my  lot  to 
give  you   the   first   hint,    Broon." 

Mark's  eyes  searched  him  for  an  instant.  It 
could  not  be  possible  that  an  enemy  would  wear 
a  face  of  such  delight  in  telling  a  foe  that  he 
had  undoubtedly  become  a  general.  And,  more- 
over, an  ambitious,  high  -  minded  young  fellow 
might  be  supposed  to  see  everything  with  the 
most  charitable  and  confident  eyes  the  next 
moment  after  seeing  such  a  commission  in  his 
immediate  future. 

"  Smiles,-  your  hand  !  I  have  wronged  you  in 
thought.  But  you  need  no  other  apology,  I'm 
sure,  than  my  sincere  request  to  be  counted  one 
of  your  friends  hereafter.  And  I  take  this  occa- 
sion to  protest  to  you,  Colonel  Smiles,  that 
whatever  we  may  feel  called  upon  to  do  in  that 
ugly   matter  —  " 

"In  which  my  strange  father  is  involved  with 
Mrs.  Lane.  I  know.  Don 't  speak  of  it,  Broon. 
I  beg  of  you  spare  me,"  and  he  actually  hung 
his   head. 

"I  will,  indeed.  Colonel/'  was  Mark  Broon's 
hearty  response.  *'  I  believe  you  are  a  true  man, 
a  genuine  comrade  in  arms.  You  have  won  me, 
I  do  assure  you.     And,   my  dear  Laura  —  '* 


THE   TWO  COLONELS  MEET  293 

"  Have  I  won  her  esteem  ? "  eagerly  asked 
Smiles,  bending  till  his  lips  whispered  it  in  the 
husband's  ear.  "  No,  Broon,  I  have  not.  Who 
can  conquer  a  woman's  aversion,  once  set  and 
founded  on  so  good  reasons  ?  Ah,  I  played  the 
poltroon  !  But  God  knows  all.  I  congratulate  you," 
and  the  speaker  straightened  to  his  full  height 
to  say  it,  "on  having  such  a  father  to  guide 
you.  Instead  of  which  I  must  move  heaven  and 
earth  to  circumvent  mine  to  save  his  own  honor. 
But  he  is  my  father,  remember  that,"  and  his 
one  light  and  one  dark  eye  flashed  for  a  mo 
ment. 

Then  he  added: 

"If  it  had  not  been  for  my  pious  mother — " 

Then   he   paused  and   bit  his   lip. 

Mark  half  disliked  the  aspect  of  the  face,  but 
he  turned  the  topic  instantly  and  generously 
with : 

"As  regards  my  wife,  sir,  why,  my  faiths  are 
her  faiths,  God  bless  her !  Yes,  my  faiths  are 
Laura's  faiths;  even  too  much  so.  She  will 
absolve  your  past,  since  I  do,  and  we  shall  be 
friends  all  round,  no  doubt,"  and  he  ventured 
to  pat  Smiles'  shoulder,  to  lightly  dispense  with 
further  discussion  of  a  wife's  opinions  with  an- 
other,  always   disagreeable  among    gentlemen,  and, 


294 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


as  the  reader  can  see,  peculiarly  so  in  this  case. 
"Now  as   regards   the   steamers." 

"Wait,  Colonel  Broon.  I  pray  Heaven  you  do 
not   misconstrue   my   motive." 

His  lips  were  again  inclined  to  Broon's  ear, 
and  the  hearer  thought  the  words  were  fairly 
hot. 

"  I   live  to   conquer  that  woman's   esteem  ! " 

Broon  started  back.  But  the  other  caught  him 
by  the  shoulder,  and  pulled  him  again  near, 
saying : 

"I'll   do   it,   if  I   die   to   do   it!" 

The   husband   was   beginning  to   burn. 

"  But,  Broon,  never  fear.  God  witness  I  never 
will  open  my  lips  to  speak  to  her  again.  No, 
no,  I  beg  you,  do  not  misunderstand  me.  She 
is  your  true,  noble,  loyal  wife,  and  God  give  you 
long  years  after  I  am  dead.  But  before  that 
time  she  shall,  because  she  is  a  true  woman, 
speak  a  kind  and  perhaps  admiring  word  of  the 
man  whom  her  disesteem  stings  almost  to  mad- 
ness. No,"  with  uplifted  hand,  protesting,  "don't 
reply,  Broon.  Say  not  another  word.  Leave  it 
there.  Now  come  in  and  take  a  chair  while  I 
make  my  first  attempc  in  the  matter  right  here 
in   hand." 

The  excited    attitudes    and    movements   of   the 


THE   TWO   COLONELS  MEET.  295 

two  young  men  had  not  escaped  the  observation 
of  the  lady.  As  she  saw  them  moving  within 
the  enclosure  she  sprung  half  up.  For  her  life 
she   could   not   have   stilled   her   tongue. 

"  Mark,    remember !  " 

He  started  perceptibly,  and  turned  to  give  her 
a  curious  glance,  but  no  reply,  this  young  hus- 
band of  hers.  And  she  blushed  like  scarlet, 
wishing,  oh,  so  much,  that  she  had  not  said  it. 
So  she  went  to  the  window,  and  began  to  study 
that  ever-moving  Broadway  throng,  —  as  you  and 
I,  reader,  perhaps,  have  more  than  once  done 
in  a  troubled  hour;  and  it  is  strange  how 
comforting  in  its  inspired  forgetfulness  of  one's 
self  a  window -study  of  Broadway  has  often 
been. 

"  I  heard  it.  Colonel.  I  could  guess  its  mean- 
ing," remarked  Smiles  with  a  downcast  counte- 
nance. "But  do  not  offer  any  palliations.  No, 
not  a  word,"  with  the  same  deprecating  gesture 
of  his  hand.  "  I  deserve  it  all.  Only  now  hear 
me,  and  judge  if  I  do  not  begin  to  deserve 
better.  I  will  'not  have  the  two  steamers  ready 
till   ten   days   from   this   date.     Do   you   take } " 

"Smiles!"  exclaimed  Broon.  "Am  I  turned 
seer  of  future  events  ?  I  could  almost,  for  the 
moment,   believe   in   your   father's   clairvoyance." 


296  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

**  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ? "  almost  severely. 
"We  were  not  to  refer  to  those  sad  affairs,  I 
thought." 

"Why,  no,  my  dear  fellow,"  responded  Mark, 
in  haste.  "  Believe  me,  I  did  not  intend  that 
But  what  you  have  offered  is  just  what,  in 
romantic  and  sentimental  dream,  I  laughingly 
suggested  to  Lau  —  my  wife  —  you  might  do.  But 
it  was  the  wildest  product  of  a  wish  rather  than  a 
hope.  Are  your  steamers  really  ready  in  this 
port   to-day  ? " 

With  an  equivocal  look  that  meant  to  confess 
the  very  contrary  and  save  his  veracity,  Colonel 
Smiles   replied  : 

"  No,  sir,  not  ready,  and  will  not  be  for  ten 
days.  You  can  get  your  furlough.  And  per- 
haps, my  dear  sir,  a  Northern-bom  boy  like  you 
may  wish  you  had  strained  a  point  to  take  it, 
when  you  have  been  down  there  in  the  swamps 
for   six   months." 

"  I  understand.  I  expect  we  shall  see  the  men 
die  like  sheep.  Not  a  very  heroic  soldier's  death 
that,   eh?" 

"  It  is  agreed  between  us,  then,"  resumed 
Smiles.  On  the  eighth  day  of  August  I  can  have 
the  Iroquois,  the  Stoi^m  King^  and  the  Portland 
ready  for  your  brigade  at  Jersey  City  docks, 
and  not  a  day  before." 


THE   TWO   COLONELS  MEET. 


297 


"But,  Colonel,  my  regiment  was  to  have  been 
ready  to  come  here  day  after  to-morrow.  Your 
dispatches  —  " 

"  Never  mind  my  dispatches.  I  can  *t  get  the 
crafts  ready." 

"  But,    Smiles,    they  are   ready." 

"  Pardon   me,  you   can't   prove   it." 

"  True." 

"Very  well.  Now  go  take  a  wedding  trip, 
you  son  of  wealth,  and  that  you  may  have  a 
happy  day  of  it  I  sincerely  wish.  Tell  her  that 
is   the  poltroon's   first  humble   service." 

Mark  Broon  might  have  committed  himself 
but  for  that  last  remark.  He  might  have  for- 
gotten his  high  sense  of  patriotic  duty,  his 
delicate  regard  for  transparent  truth,  and  even 
his  wife's  warning,  but  for  that  unlucky  closing 
phrase.  This,  however,  recalled  him  to  himself 
in    a    moment. 

"I   don't   like  that   kind   of  talk.    Smiles!" 

"  Very  well.  Pardon  me,  and  I'll  never  do 
my  lips  the  honor  to  refer  to  one  who  is 
sacredly  yours   again." 

"  But,  Colonel,"  insisted  Broon,  concluding,  on 
second  thought,  to  give  it  that  turn,  "  excuse 
me ;  and  yet —  really  now  does  this  not  seem  a 
'ittle  like  sharp  practice  with  the  government, 
when   every   moment   counts  ? " 


298  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

*'  But  it  is  my  doings,  and  not  yours.  Leave 
it  to  my   conscience." 

**I  decline,  Colonel  Smiles.  Give  me  my 
transports." 

**  You   will   not    let   me   do   you    this   favor  ? " 

"  Under  the  circumstances  I  cannot.  It  would 
not   be   proper." 

"  Proper .?  You  can  not  mistrust  my  efforts  to 
please  —  to   please  you  } " 

"  It  is  an  evasion  of  public  duty  for  private 
reasons.  That  is,  beg  pardon,  it  would  seem  so 
to   me." 

*'No  doubt.  Curses  on  it,  that  I  have  been 
brought  up  to  be  very  indifferent  as  regards 
such    delicate   distinctions    of   honor." 

"  Is  that  irony.?  For  if j  it  is  I  don't  deserve 
it." 

With  a  quick  turn,  face  to  face,  Smiles  de- 
manded : 

"  What   were   your   motives  in  going  to  war  ? " 

With  flush,   insulted,  yet  with  self-control  : 

"  I    do    not    understand   you,    sir." 

"  Oh,  of  course  you  do  not.  I  fear  we 
shall  never  get  on  as  passable  friends  even. 
T  wanted  to  go  to  war  and  die !  Do  you  hear 
it  ?  To  die !  But  I  got  in  here.  You  went  to 
war  from  love   of   country.      You     got     in     there, 


THE   TWO  COLONELS  MEET, 


299 


At  the  front,  where  you  are  likely  to  die.  That's 
the  fate  of  things.  But  I  will  be  there  yet ! " 
with   clenched  hand   on   table. 

"You  must  be  a  most  unhappy  man!"  ex- 
claimed Broon,  his  better  feelings  all  in  command 
again,    instantly. 

"  Well,  now,"  continued  the  other,  shrewdly 
following  up  his  advantage,  "you'll  let  me  do 
you,   the   happy    man,    a    favor.?" 

After   a    moment's   thought : 

"  Yes,  Colonel  Smiles,  I  will,  upon  one  con- 
dition." 

"Name  it." 

"  I'll  take  the  three  o'clock  express,"  pulling  out 
his  watch,  *•  and  report  in  Washington,  in  person, 
and  to  the  general  in  command,  that  I  can  be 
got  off  in  ten  days ;  that  private  and  family 
reasons  make  delay  desirable  for  me ;  and  I  will 
ask  if  the  exigencies  of  the  service  will  allow 
it." 

"Then  you  will  not  take  the  service  from 
me  >  " 

"  My  dear  sir,  you  are  inclined  to  be  sensi- 
tive. Your  kindness  alone  suggested  and .  made 
the   plan    possible.     Now,    good-day." 

"Very  well  ;  las  you  think  best.  Good-day," 
was   Smiles'   reply. 


300 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


But,  while  he  rose  to  his  feet  to  shake  hands, 
he  did  not  emerge  from  the  concealment  of  his 
desk. 

"  Laura,"  was  Mark's  salutation,  "  I  have 
fifteen  minutes  in  which  to  catch  the  train.  It 
is  only  cutting  short  my  stay  by  two  hours  any 
way,  my  pet.  But  don't  wear  such  a  sad  face, 
now.  Come,"  himself  beaming,  "and  I'll  explain 
all   in   the   carriage." 

Which  he  did.  When  he  had  finished  (his 
wife  had  given  way  to  her  tears  promptly  they 
were  in  the  vehicle,  let  us  note),  there  came 
sobbing  out   one   word   of  protest: 

"  Never  ! " 

"  What 's  never    to   be,   love  }  ** 

"  Never,  never  a  kindness  from  one  of  that 
family  ! " 

"  But   I  have   given   him   my  word." 

"  You  should  not.  There  is  no  obligation  that 
will   hold   with   such   men." 

Mark  Broon  was  startled.  The  wild,  strange 
look  in  his  wife's  beautiful  eyes  filled  him  with 
alarm.  The  distress  and  excitement  of  the  last 
few  hours,  succeeding  many  days  of  such  hours, 
was  doing  her,  perhaps,  more  injury  than  he  had 
feared,  even.  The  wounds  that  women  get  in 
war-time  are  of  this  kind.  Invisible  bullets  strike 
home,  and  far  from  the    battle-field. 


THE   TWO  COLONELS  MEET,  301 

"Mark,"  she  cried  in  a  voice  strained  and 
unnatural,  "you  do  not  know  the  powers  of  evil. 
I  do.  You  think  me  superstitious.  Alas,  I  did 
not  have  a  religious  training  like  yours,  though  I 
was  beginning  to  believe  in  the  God  you  worship, 
and   in   prayer.     But   hear   me!" 

She  clutched  him  almost  fiercely,  and  her  ac- 
tions were  so  violent,  in  contrast  v/ith  her 
usual    gentleness : 

"  I  beheve  that  the  ship  you  sail  in  will 
sink!    They   mean    it    shall!" 

"Laura,  Laura,  my  own  wife!  Come,  calm 
yourself,   do!" 

And  he  tried  to  restrain  her  fearful  paroxysms 
of   mental   anguish. 

But  he  might  as  well  have  argued  with  the 
tropic  fever  in  the  scorching  air.  Indeed,  he 
bethought  him  of  the  terrible  heat  as  one  of  the 
exciting   causes   of   her   unnatural   state 

"But  your  hands  are  like  ice!"  he  exclaimed, 
thinking   aloud. 

"No,    dear,    I  —  I   am   not   too   warm." 

Though  her  teeth  beginning  to  chatter,  and 
her  person  to  shiver  as  she  drew  herself  closer 
into   his    embrace,    she   confessed : 

"That  is," — chatter,  chatter,  —  "my  head,  at 
.east,   is   like  fire." 


302  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"You  are  ill!  We  will  return,"  touching  the 
bell,  and  grasping  the  speaking  tube,  through 
which  he  called  to  the  driver,  "At  once  and 
quickly   now,    my   man,   to   father's   store." 

Then,  with  proper  self-possession,  to  Laura,  as 
he  gently  pressed  her  head  to  his  breast,  fond- 
ling   her  face: 

"If  you  will  be  a  good,  brave  girl,  now,  we 
shall   soon   be   at   home." 

Starting  up:  "And  you  will  not  leave  me?" 
"Certainly  not;  that  is,  not  on  this  train." 
"Nor  the  next,  nor  the  next,  nor  the  next 
train !  No,  not  for  train  after  train,  and  morning 
after  morning !  You  will  not  go  in  the  Smiles 
ship.  No ;  not  go  like  the  —  wait !  My  head. 
But  I   shall   catch  it   in  a  moment.     I'll  sing  it: 

"'Three  fishers  went  sailing  far  down  in  the  west.*" 

She  sung  the  whole  of  Kingsley's  first  stanza 
through.  Then,  pausing,  she  complained  of  the 
jolting  that  broke  up  her  tones.  She  wondered 
why  they  drove  so  fast,  since  they  were  noi 
hurrying    now   for   the   train. 

"It's  all  right,  dear,"  Mark  reassured  her,  his 
voice   shaky   with   his   awful   apprehensions. 

And  he  spoke  again  through  the  tube  to  the 
driver,   hoarsely  urging: 


THE   TWO   COLONELS  MEET.  303 

"Faster!  Faster!  Like  the  wind,  old  fellow! 
Kill   the   horses,    if   need   be!" 

And   this   he   knew   she   could   not   hear. 

Suddenly  the  poor  girl  started  back  from  \\vi 
embrace,    and   laughed   aloud,  as   she   exclaimed; 

•'See!  We  are  flying  faster  than  his  evil 
angels!  Oh,  Mark,  there  are  evil  angels.  I 
know  it.  I  have  seen  them.  Dr.  Smiles  can 
call  them  any  time.  My  mamma  thinks  them  good 
angels,  because  they  wait  on  that  doctor.  But, 
Mark,  they  cannot  be  good  angels  if  they  wait 
on   him,   can   they?" 

What  a  horror  to  him  was  that  beautiful  face 
as  it  paused  for  its  answer.  Those  usually  ten- 
der, deep  eyes  were  fierce  in  their  alarm.  The 
complexion  was  congested  till  the  rich  blood 
seemed  almost  visible  in  its  red  surge  and  re- 
treat through  the  delicate  skin.  The  curling 
lips  showed  white.  The  pretty  teeth  apart.  The 
luxuriant  hair  partially  undone  and  falling  across 
the  face.  It  was  an  aspect  of  such  a  frenzy, 
oncoming  or  departing,  he  could  not  decide 
which,  as,  once  seen  in  a  countenance  we  love, 
has   made  our   hearts   stand   still. 

''  My  precious  Laura,"  the  husband  began 
again. 

And  to  his  credit,  let  it  be  said,  the  man  con 
trolled  himself  admirably. 


304  ^    WEDDING  IN   WAR-TIME, 


"Come,    put     your    head    down    again    against 

me." 

"Wait,"  she  cried,  resisting  him,  "let  me  tell 
you  more  about  the  bad  angels.  No,  the  good 
ones  this  time.  Good  ones  wait  on  your  good 
papa,  and  on  all  good  people  who  have  been 
taught  to  beUeve  in  the  good  God.  But  bad 
ones  on  others  of  us.  Why,  Mark,"  and  she 
caught  hold  on  the  window  ledge  with  one  steady- 
ing hand,  while  with  the  other  she  gestured 
into  his  face,  her  long  handsome  forefinger  em- 
phasizing her  meaningless  speech,  "  Mark,  those 
evil  angels  can  foretell  to  Dr.  Smiles  the  very 
steamer  that  will  sink  in  the  sea.  But  you  will 
not   be  on   board!" 

And  with  that  last  the  cold  finger  touched  his 
forehead,    and   her  face   was   in   his. 

He  caught  her  round  about  and  held  her, 
while  he  prayed  God's  mercy  on  them,  and  tried 
for    a    moment  to    think   with    clearness. 

"  What  an  interminable  street  was  this  West 
street !  Ah,  we  are  now  turned  into  Chambers 
street.  We  shall  soon  be  in  Broadway.  She  is 
yet  quiet.  Father  in  Heaven,  what  does  this 
affliction  mean  }  Oh,  what  a  fool,  a  dolt,  a  cruel 
blunderer  I  have  been!  What  can  I  do  to  undo 
this.?    Of  course   I  shall  resign;  a  man's  first  duty 


THE   TWO  COLONELS  MEET  305 

is  to  his  wife.  And  such  a  lovely  wife!  But  is 
it  ?  What  if  all  the  hearts  that  are  breaking,  these 
days,  were  to  bring  back  the  men  who  alone  can 
mend  them, —  what,  then,  of  country?  Rest  will 
cure  her.  Yes,  I  shall  beg  to  stay  a  week ;  a 
month,  if  need  be.  I  can  go  and  come.  My 
brigade  —  brigade?  What  a  day  of  happiness  and 
misery !  She  shall  go  to  her  mother.  No ;  that 
would  only  make  matters  worse,  with  that 
accursed  rascal  up  there.  Mrs.  Lane  must  come 
here.  If  I  only  owned  Eaglecroft  —  Long  Branch  ? 
The  cottage  is  gone !  All  our  means  gone !  Well, 
well,  this  is  indeed  a  new  sensation.  I  have 
no  money,  think  of  it  I  That 's  a  new  sensation. 
I  wonder  what  poor  people  do  when  they  are 
sick.  And  father  goes  to  sea  next  week.  How 
quiet  she  is   now.     Rest   will    restore   her." 

Halt!  Loud  words  outside  the  curtains  and 
by  the  horses'  heads.    They  are  not  at  the  store ! 

"What  is  it?"  The  wild,  glorious  face  just 
turned  like  a  half-frightened   child   to  ask. 

"A   street  block,    I   dare   say.     Hush,    child." 

"  No,    Mark ;  we  are   pursued  ! " 

Colonel  Broon  saw  in  a  moment  that  an  added 
strain  of  excitement  would  be  terrible  to  one  in 
his  wife's  state  of  mind.  He  threw  open  the 
door,   revealing   his   head   and   shoulders,  and  saw, 


3o6 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


instantly,  the  predicament.  He  laid  Laura  ofif  his 
arm,  and  by  vexation  and  disgust  managed  to 
laugh  : 

*'  Arrested  for  fast  driving,  my  dear.  Sit  still 
a    half -minute,"  and  he   sprung   to  the  pavement. 

"  Take  your  hands  off  those  horses,  my  man," 
he  calmly,  yet  resolutely,  commanded  the  burly 
police   officer. 

**  Not  much,  my  fine  feller,"  was  the  reply. 
I  '11  take  you  in,  I  guess.  'T  ain't  no  army  busi- 
ness as  brings  a  handsome  chap  like  you  through 
the  streets  at  unlawful  pace  with  such  a  putty 
picter  as   that   inside." 

For  there  stood  Laura  at  her  husband's  back, 
the  most  marvelous  picture  of  womanly  beauty 
the  offioer  and  the  street  crowd  had  ever  seen. 
Such  a  flood  of  sunlight  on  that  wonderful  head ! 
What  should  Broon  do?  One  thing,  at  all  events; 
for,  on  glancing  up  to  the  buildings  opposite,  he 
saw  the  coat  of  arms  and  letterings  of  Colonel 
Smiles'  headquarters,  and  that  young  gentleman, 
himself,  standing  in  his  own  peculiar  straddle 
before  the  wide  windows.  One  thing  surely  was 
to  be  done.  He  put  his  wife  again  into  the 
carriage,  with  a  kind,  strong  movement,  and 
closed  the  door.  He  yet  held  the  handle  as  he 
stood  in   the  street. 


THE   TWO  COLONELS  MEET  307 

"I  am  on  my  proper  official  errands,  officer,' 
he  began,  "and  if  you  do  not  stand  out  of  my 
way,  why,  then,  you'll  be  one  of  the  first  whom 
we  must  teach  in  this  town  to  respect  the  new 
order   of  things." 

It  came  natural  to  the  soldier  to  learn  the  use 
of,  unfortunately,  the  ready-drawn  revolver.  Per- 
haps it  was  ill-advised.  But  the  man  was  des- 
perate; and  it  was  war-times.  The  crowd  gave 
way,  with  a  rush  backward.  The  really  intelli- 
gent and  well-trained  policeman  hesitated,  though 
he  took  the  menace  cooly,  like  a  veteran,  and 
still   held   the   off   animal's   bit. 

"  May  be  you  *re,  correct.  Captain.  Still,  — 
Jim,"  to  an  associate  on  the  sidewalk,  "run 
into  them  army  fellers  up  there  and  ask  who'll 
vouch   fur   this   *un." 

"I  will  vouch  for  Colonel  Broon, —  General 
Broon,  I  should  have  said ! "  shouted  Erastus 
Smiles  from  his  upthrown  window.  "Take  hands 
off,  policeman,  unless  you  want  trouble!" 

It  was  all  over  in  a  moment.  Broon  touched 
his  cap  to  Smiles,  thanking  Heaven  that  the 
curtain  was  drawn  on  that  side  of  the  carriage, 
yet,    in   spite   of  all   things,   downright   grateful. 

Smiles  returned  the  salute,  and  had  his  own 
thoughts   as   to    why   these    two   were    back    here 


5o8  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

again,  and  driving  up  Broadway  instead  of  to 
that  train. 

Laura  threw  her  arms  convulsively  about  hei 
husband's  neck,  as  they  rolled  up  the  thoroughfare. 
The  tremors  that  shook  her  warned  him  not  to 
tempt  her  to  break  the  now  almost  unendurable 
silence. 

They  are  now  at  the  door  of  his  father's  store. 
He  tells  her  as  much. 

But  her  eyes  are  closed.  No  doubt  she  has 
fainted  after  the  chill.  But,  athlete  though  he 
is,  the  young  husband  is  not  quite  equal  to 
carrying,  bodily,  that  splendid  form.  At  any 
rate  it   would  be  more   seemly  to   have  help. 

"  What  is  it.  Bob } "  somehow  it  seemed  as  if 
his  father  was  waiting  and  watching,  always,  for 
every  crisis  in  his  son's  life,  as  now  for  the 
carriage. 

"Come  and   seel" 

The  old  sailor,  physician  and  captain,  as  he 
had  been  compelled  to  be  for  years  on  the 
ancient  packet  ships,  at  the  first  glance   said: 

"  Laura,  my  child !  You  —  she  has  not 
fainted?" 

No,  she  had  not ;  for  she  sat  up  and  looked 
them  full  in   the  face  with  those  pitiful   eyes. 

"May  God  help  you,  Mark  I" 


THE   TWO  COLONELS  MEET  30, 

Then  the  old  captain  turned  to  finish  his 
sentence  in  a  whisper  to  his  wife  standing  just 
behind   him : 

"  She  is  insane  I " 

As  they  bore   her   in   the  old  man  moaned: 

**  That's  what  comes  of  the  isms  which  she 
was   brought   up  in ! " 

Mark  gave  him  one  look  of  unspeakable  dis- 
tress ;  and  the  tears  sprung  to  the  aged  eyes  as 
the   captain  exclaimed : 

"Forgive  me,  Bob.    God  knows  it  all" 


3IO  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


XIV. 

THE   ACCURSED  SUPERSTITION  AGAIN. 

U  TTAVE  you  heard  anything  later,  papa?" 
^  ^  exclaimed  pretty  Madge  Hardy,  spring- 
ing  up   into   the   portly   ex-mayor's   arms. 

The  train   had   hardly   come  to   a   pause   in   the 

station  at   S before   Miss  Hardy  had  alighted, 

and   thus   assailed   her   waiting  father. 

"She  is  home  and  quiet,  Madge  dear.  Are 
they  in  the  car.?"  responded  the  perturbed  gen- 
tleman, rearranging  his  silk  hat  and  standing 
collar  after  the  above  attack.  There  is,  even 
yet,  something  very  dignifying  in  those  old-time 
cheek-shaving,  almost  ear-lacerating  stand-up  col- 
lars, especially  on  a  ruddy  and  full -cheeked 
elderly   gentleman   without   beard. 

**  Now,  Philip,"  remarked  Mrs.  Hardy,  appear- 
ing after  her  daughter  on  the  platform  of  the 
parlor,  "now,  Philip,  you  must  indulge  poor  sis- 
ter," getting  down  and  kissing  the  ex-mayor. 
"  Is  everything  all  right  at  the  house }  Of 
course  you   see  that  the  girls  air  the  house  every 


THE  ACCURSED  SUPERSTITION  AGAIN. 


311 


day,  this  hot  weather.  Yes,  sister  is  in  there. 
Terrible  about  Laura,  is  n't  it  ?  Have  they  given 
you  what  you  want  to  eat }  If  not,  you  must 
blame  yourself ;  you  have  only  to  order  your 
own  meals.  Now,  Philip,  you  must  go  right  on 
with  us.  Yes,  I  see  you  are  all  dressed  for  it. 
We  have  no  time  for  lunch,  I  suppose.  Madge 
ordered  it  sent  in.  Do  you  think  Colonel  Broon 
will  resign  ?  Is  it  true  that  he  has  been  made 
a  brigadier-general,  as  the  telegram  said  1  How 
sad  about  their  losing  all  their  property !  I  do 
hope,    Philip,    that    your   business  — " 

"  Well,"  exclaimed  the  ex-mayor,  '*  give  me  a 
chance,  my  good  wife.  You  are  more  voluble 
than  ever.  I  have  half  .a  mind  not  to  go  on 
with  you.  To  think  of  the  audacity  of  that 
scoundrel !  Did  you  say  he  was  accompanying 
Laura  *s  mother }  " 

"  No,  I  did  n't  say  it,  Philip ;  but  I  suppose 
you  may  as  well  know  it.  He  —  that  is,  Dr. 
Smiles  —  is  in  the  car,"  very  humbly  and  apolo- 
getically. 

"  Why,  do  you  know,  old  Captain  Broon  has 
instituted  criminal  proceedings  against  the  fellow! 
Indicted  for  conspiracy  !  " 

Mother  and  daughter  were  shocked  into  silence, 
Madge    Hardy,    in    particular,    gave   a   little    start, 


312 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


and  then  catching  at  one  of  her  father's  big 
forefingers,  turned  decidedly  pale.  The  mother 
ventured   to   say : 

"  No  doubt  it  is  a  miserable  business  all  around. 
But  really,  Philip,  there  is  one  redeeming  feature 
in  the  man.  Or,  rather,  I  should  say,  we  came 
to  regard  his  son  as  quite  a  hero;  like  Mark,  in- 
deed, lately.     He's  a  colonel   in — " 

"  Yes ;  I  know.  In  a  Broadway  store  at  five 
thousand  dollars  a  year.  Oh,  you  see  I  know  all 
about   this  affair." 

Yet  he  did  not ;  for  he  looked  clear  over  his 
own   daughter's   head. 

"  I  know.  My  old  friend,  the  captain,  has  kept 
me  informed.  I  wouldn't  so  much  as  think  of 
allowing  my  family  to  go  another  step  towards 
New  York  with  that  scamp  along  o'  your  sister, 
except  to  help  the  old  captain.  Why,  he  has  to 
take  ship  the  very  moment  Laura  is  able  to  be 
left.  I  got  him  back  again  into  our  line.  You 
know  I  'm  one  of  the  few  American  owners." 

Mr.  Hardy  easily  lost  his  breath  late  years, 
and  his  excitement,  with  his  indignation,  had 
been  working  up  to  the  explosion  point  for  sev- 
eral days,  with  no  one  before  whom  the  proud  old 
gentleman  could  explode  on  family  matters  at 
hand. 


THE  ACCURSED  SUPERSTITION  AGAIN,  313 

"  Philip  !  Philip  !  Remember  where  you  are  !  " 
his  wife  expostulated.  "  Everybody  is  noticing 
us!" 

Which  was  true.  The  baggage  men  and  the 
truckmen,  the  city  merchants  about  taking  train, 
his  brother  manufacturers  and  fellow-capitalists 
returning  from  vacations,  everybody  bowed  and 
opened  their  eyes  on  the  well-known  broadcloth 
that  set  so  well  upon  the  ex-mayor's  familiar, 
portly  form.  What  aristocracy  in  the  wide  world 
is  comparable  for  sway  with  the  aristocracy  of 
the  rural  city }     And  the  Hardy s  were  the  bright, 

peculiar    flower    of    high    caste    in    S .     Well, 

well,  we  will  not  quarrel  if  all  aristocrats  are 
as  truly  noble  as  Philip  Hardy,  self-made,  and 
the  maker  of  scores,  self-educated,  and  the  edu- 
cator of  hundreds. 

"Yes,  papa.  Come  into  the  car,"  urged 
Madge,    guiding   him    along. 

And  as  he  had  evidently  resolved  to  go,  she 
had  no  real  difficulty  in  securing  his   compliance. 

"  For,  papa,"  she  resumed,  brightly,  at  the 
same  time  adroitly  preventing  his  passage  too 
far  down  towards  her  aunt's  compartment  at  the 
further  end  of  the  car,  "papa,  you  must  try  to 
think  more  kindly  of  this  gentleman.  He  has 
been    so     indulgent     and     attentive    to    auntie; 


314 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


and — and,  papa,"  getting  hold  on  his  watch- 
chain,  not  difficult  to  do,  by  the  way,  "he  pro- 
tested  against   accompanying   her  —  " 

"  Yes,  pet,  I  should  think  so.  He  'd  better 
keep  away  from  New  York  for  the  present,  1 
should  think.  Why,  we  '11  have  him  in  jail  or 
on  bail  before   to-morrow   night." 

"  My  dear  Philip,  do  n  't ! "  whispered  Mrs. 
Hardy.  "  I  cannot,  of  course,  fail  to  condemn 
Madge's  —  " 

"  Mamma ! "  exclaimed  the  young  lady,  in  such 
genuine  distress  and  confusion  that  the  ever- 
watchful  mother  saw  instantly  that  it  would  be 
cruel  to  so  much  as  hint  at  the  warnings  here 
that   she   had    mercilessly   expressed   in   private. 

Strange  that  the  old  gentleman  did  not  take 
alarm.  But  he  was  so  full,  generous  heart,  of 
other  people's  dangers"  and  troubles  that  he  did 
not.  Then,  too,  I  do  not  suppose  fathers  are 
very  quick  to  perceive  what  mothers  see  very 
plainly. 

The  train  having  started,  Mrs.  Hardy  resumed 
her  attack  upon  the  ex-mayor,  gently,  yet  per- 
sistently : 

"You  must  go  in  and  speak  to  them.  The 
idea !  You  cannot  allow  yourself  to  be  outdone 
in    courtesy.      And   I   am    sure    you   will  be    just 


THE  ACCURSED  SUPEHSTITIOA  AGAIN. 


315 


simply  surprised,"  leaning  her  round  person  for- 
ward, and  then  settling  back  into  her  chair 
with  great  impressiveness,  as  if  the  thought  of 
it  quite  overcame  the  speaker,  "at  the  elegant 
manners  and  apparent  kindness  of  this  strange 
physician." 

"  Humph !     Made  a  captive  of  you,   too  ? "  was 
all   the   reply   she  got   for   some  time. 

And  yet  it  was  necessary  to  go  into  that 
compartment.  Undoubtedly  there  was  no  escape 
Mrs.  Lane,  invalid  and  afflicted,  sister  to  his 
wife,  and  mother  to  his  favorite  niece,  he  must 
go  greet  her.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  annoy- 
ance •  that  a  misbehaving  kinsman  can  inflict 
upon  us.  And  yet  it  is  best  never  to  break 
the  tie.  A  true  man  always  owns  his  own ; 
yes,  if  he  must  even  follow  them  into  prison  to 
extend  the  kindred  hand.  Philip  Hardy's  wife 
and  daughter  knew  him  too  well,  either  to 
urge  him  more,  or  doubt  the  issue.  They  were 
not  unprepared,  therefore,  when,  after  ten  or  fif- 
teen miles  by  express  train,  their  scrupulous 
husband  and  father,  stickler  for  the  proprieties 
in  conduct,  and  careful  of  his  company,  got  up 
with  : 

"Yes,   of    course.     Come;    let's   all    go    in    and 
try  to  cheer  up  the  poor,   dear  lady." 


3i6  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

At  the  door  of  the  compartment,  Philip  Hardy 
was  quite  beaming,  as  became  a  brother-in-law, 
stooping  over  and  kissing  the  bolstered  lady 
with  : 

"Well,  Martha,  I  have  good  news  for  you. 
A  telegram  of  some  length  was  sent  me,  no 
doubt  the  news  intended  for  your  ears,  when 
your  train    should  get   here." 

And  he  sat  down  on  the  cushion  at  her 
side,  pulling  her  hand  out  and  fondling  it  on 
his  own  fat  knee,  but  not  so  much  as  noticing 
the  physician  to  whom  he  had  given  them  no 
time  to  introduce  him,  saying  that  "dear  Laura 
was  better." 

*« Thank  God!"   the  widow  sighed 

"Why,  yes,  Martha,"  Hardy  was  quick  to 
reply.  "That's  good  talk.  It  is  God  alone 
whom  we  are  to  thank,  and  depend  on,  too,  in 
times   like  these.     And — " 

He  put  the  conjunctive  in  to  retain  his  right 
to  the  floor,  while  he  made  a  long  pause  to  im- 
press his  previous  speech,  watching  the  widow's 
face,  as  if  he  half  suspected  that  her  "thank 
God "  was  more  habit  than  piety,  according  to 
recent  stories.  His  keen  brown  eyes  also  trav- 
ersed the  impassive  features  of  the  physician, 
who  sat  opposite  by  the  window,  and  the  keen 
brown  eyes  for  once  met  their  match. 


THE  ACCURSED  SUPERSTITION  AGAIN,  317 


"And,"  Mr.  Hardy  resumed,  "it  appears  that, 
after  getting  her  to  the  house,  Laura  grew  con- 
siderably calmer.  It  is  thought  to  be  nothing 
more  serious  than  nervous  prostration.  Nervous 
prostration,  my  dear  sister,"  now  giving  way  to 
his  generous  nature  rapidly,  "nothing  more,  I'm 
sure.  Only  it  is  so  painful  an  incident,  poor, 
pretty  bride !  Such  things  seem  worse  in  a 
honeymoon  than  at  any  other  time,  that's  all," 
patting  her  hand  still  pressed  on  his  ample 
knee. 

"Honeymoon,  Philip?"  Mrs.  Lane  wearily  whis- 
pered; and  grateful  tears,  let  us  hope,  were  in 
her  eyes.  "  Laura  and  Mark  never  had  a  honey- 
moon. He  has  never  been  in  her  society  a 
whole  hour,  that  I  know  of,  since  the  wedding. 
Is  he  to   resign  and   attend  to   her?" 

The  first  vigor  that  her  speech  had  mani- 
fested,  throbbed  a  little  in  that. 

"He  is  at  her  side,  be  assured,"  replied  Mr. 
Hardy. 

"But  you  have  no  doubt  what  his  duty  is?" 
exclaimed  the  invalid,  actually  leaning  forward. 

The  loyal  and  puzzled  Hardy,  hot  patriot  and 
kind  brother,  after  all,  was  about  to  reply  eva- 
sively, when  he  caught  sight  of  the  smile  that 
was   running  round  the  compartment.     Dr.  Smiles 


3i8  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

had  it  more  fully  developed  than  the  others  ; 
the  patronizing  professional  smile  with  which 
your  physician  quenches  your  own  wishes  and 
ideas  in  his  counter  will ;  the  smile  that  accom- 
panies a  physician's  command  to  the  contrary. 
Hardy  read  it  instantly,  and  was  as  much  sur- 
prised as  he  was  pleased.  He  had  an  ally,  then, 
in    the   strange   doctor. 

"Papa,"  Madge  made  haste  to  say,  "we  have 
been  discussing  that  question  of  Mark's  duty  all 
the  way  down.  She  would  insist  on  having  our 
opinions.     Papa,   let   me   introduce   Dr.    Smiles." 

It  came  just  right.  The  ex-mayor  actually 
put  out  his  hand,  though  guardedly  and  in  si- 
lence. The  ready  doctor  took  his  chance  to  re- 
mark,  in  subdued,   sick-room  tones  : 

"  I  have  been  trying  to  help  this  good  lady's 
mind  into  reconciliation  with  the  great  and  he- 
roic destiny  evidently  presented  by  the  gods  to 
her  son." 

The  thumbs  now  came  into  play,  though  in 
gentle   pressure,   as   if  only  wary    as    yet. 

"The  gods"  nearly  upset  things  for  a  mo- 
ment, it  was  so  far  back  to  Philip  Hardy's 
college  days,  and  so  near  to  the  recent  scenes 
of  heterodoxy  up  at  the  widow's  farm.  But  the 
black  eyes  in   the   corner    and    the    thumbs    tri- 


THE  ACCURSED  SUPERSTITION  AGAIN, 


319 


umphed.  Moment  by  moment  the  victory  went 
on.  How  ?  It  is  impossible  to  explain.  It  is 
even  harder  to  explain  in  rugged  Philip  Hardy's 
case  than  in  the  hundreds  on  hundreds  of  cases 
that  this  inexplicable  physician  had  been  sub- 
duing  all   the  late   years   of   his   life. 

"Why,  my  dear  sir,  I  am  glad  to  find  a 
patriot  in  you,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hardy,  decidedly 
civil   in   his   tone. 

"I  have  a  son,  sir,  as  you  have,"  resumed 
the  doctor,  not  looking  at  Mrs.  Hardy,  though 
she  was  instantly  regarding  him.  "  It  is  a  heart- 
breaking thing  to  part  with  a  son  on  such  an 
errand.  We  professional  men  and  the  good,  ten- 
der-souled  mothers  of  the  boys,"  now  turning 
his  eyes  on  Mrs.  Hardy,  "are  much  alike.  We 
are  not  trained  in  the  practical  school  of  you 
business  men  and  officers  of  civil  government," 
eyes  now  on  the  ex-mayor  and  thumbs  pressing 
harder.  "  For  a  moment  the  war  made  a  traitor 
of  my  heart  for  my  boy's  sake.  But  it  has 
passed." 

"Ahem,  yes,"  the  other"  gentleman  replied  in 
amiable  confusion.  "  Wife  and  I  have  been  on 
two  sides  over  our  Fred.  Oh,  he  has  sailed, 
my  dear,"  to  his  wife,  "just  as  I  telegraphed 
you  he   should." 


320  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


"  Thanks  be  to   God ! "   said   his  wife. 

"  Why,  Sally  !  You  did  n  't  suppose  I  would  de- 
ceive you,  did  you  ?  You  have  n  't,  now  I  think 
of  it,  dared  ask  a  word  after  the  boy.  She/* 
turning  to  the  rest,  "telegraphed  me  such  a 
prayer  the  other  day,  that  I  couldn't,  for  the 
life  of  me,  deny  her.  So  I  sent  Fred  to  Europe, 
for  the  present,   on  business." 

"I   cannot  blame  you.'* 

It  was  the  doctor.  It  was  a  home  thrust.  It 
completed  the  struggle  for  a  respectable  stand- 
ing on  the  just  now  despised   physician's   part. 

"No  more  contempt,  if  you  please,"  thumbs 
and   eyes   said   it. 

"Some  one  had  to  go,"  resumed  Mr.  Hardy, 
coloring  and  looking  down.  "If  it  had  not  been 
Fred,   it   would  have  been    I." 

"Keep  him  there!"   said   Mrs.    Hardy. 

"Oh,  I  can't  promise  as  to  that,"  replied  her 
husband,  and  he  was  just  about  to  attempt  a 
vindication  of  his  patriotism  by  launching  into  a 
heroic  and  sincere  "permission  for  Fred  to  do 
what  he  pleased  when  six  months  had  brought 
him   under   the  old   flag   again." 

"Do  you  think  the  dreadful  war  will  last  as 
long  as  that,  papa.?"  in  pretty  trepidation  asked 
Madge. 


THE  ACCURSED  SUPERSTITION  AGAIN,  321 

"I  fear  it  will,  daughter,"  was  the  grave 
reply. 

What  a  frequent  question  on  the  lips  of  our 
women  that  was !  With  what  affrighted  faces 
they  asked  it  of  everybody,  and  meekly  listened 
to  the  ever- varying  replies.  Who  could  tell  ? 
Only  God  knew.  No,  not  three  months.  Yes, 
for  years  and  years.  Though  not  often  this  last; 
only  the  wisest  said  that.  But  it  was  wise,  far- 
seeing  Mr.  Hardy's  blunt  reply  to  every  one. 
He  was  so  often  opposed  in  it  that  he  seemed 
almost  to  regard  the  war's  continuance  as  a 
defending  of  his  personal  judgment  and  sagacity. 
You  would  not  say  so  good  a  man  prided  him- 
self on  such  a  dread  prophecy.  And  yet  when 
the   shrewd   doctor   remarked  :  , 

*'You  are  right,  sir.     Many  a  sad,  long   year." 

'•  Why,  I  respect  your  discernment,  sir,"  came 
out  with   a   tone   very   near   to   real   esteem. 

A  few  more  words  in  the  same  line  of  shrewd 
mind-reading  on  the  doctor's  part,  and  a  great 
many  more  of  increasing  respect  and  prophesy- 
ing on  the  out -spoken  ex-mayor's  part,  as  the 
train  sped  on,  and  it  seemed  time  for  Smiles  to 
complete   his   victory. 

It  was  almost  evening  now.  The  western  sky 
over   the  great   uplands   ot   Connecticut   was   glow- 


322 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


ing  in  brilliant  hues.  The  car  was  flooded  with 
a  wistful,  tender  light;  a  time  for  dreams  and 
fancies  strange.  The  heavy  foliage  by  the  road- 
side flung  troops  of  shadows,  shifting,  flitting, 
through  the  windows.  The  features  of  the  dark- 
ling landscape  were  not  more  changeable  than 
the  features  of  this  group  of  people,  as  now  the 
glow  and  now  the  gloom  fell  over  them.  The 
tardy  lamps  now  snapped  into  their  places,  but 
made  the  nightfall  more  impressive.  The  eyes  of 
all  were  yet  trained  out  of  doors,  on  flecks  of 
cloud,  on  evening  star,  on  flashes  of  bright  water 
here  and  there  in  the  black  earth,  that  responded 
to  the  burnished  sky.  And  all  grew  pensive  in 
the  sight.  Who  has  not  felt  the  wizard  power  of 
twilight  in  a  railway  car }  You  are  leaving  home ; 
you  are  approaching  home ;  you  are  weary  with 
the  journey  and  with  the  broad  light  of  a  long- 
day,  which  has  insisted  on  revealing  ten  thousand 
sights  which  you  had  no  interest  to  see  ;  and  now 
you  are  about  to  be  released  from  seeing,  while 
you  may  fall  to  dreaming ;  the  passing  vision 
of  many  a  home's  re-union  after  the  bread- 
winner's day  of  toil,  making  you  all  the  more 
homesick  for  your  own  greeting;  the  grateful 
cool  of  dew-touched  dust  and  sod,  of  fragrant 
pines   and   maples ;    and  the  all-embracing   cool  oi 


THE  ACCURSED  SUPERSTITION  AGAIN,  323 

wandering  winds,  those  rovers  who  so  love  the 
night. 

And  to  all  these  people  sad  and  anxious  care 
was  whispering ;  to  each  a  special  tale  of  appre- 
hension for  the  midnight.  To  each,  except  may 
be  the  always  calm  and  self-possessed  physician, 
"master  of  the  Fates  and  Future,"  as  he  some- 
times told  his  children.  At  all  events,  whether 
he  compelled  it  or  not,  he  meant  to  use  the 
silence  that  held  this  group  in  thrall ;  he  was 
watching  it,  did  not  mean  that  anyone  should 
break  it  but  himself,  and  hoped,  each  moment 
of  this  silence,  that  it  yet  might  be  a  little 
more  prolonged.  Finally,  as  he  detected  the 
ex-mayor's  purpose,  judged  by  his  drawing  a  long 
deep  breath,  to  speak.  Smiles  placed  his  taper- 
ing fingers  tip  to  tip  and  resumed  the  conversa- 
tion   where   it   had  been   broken. 

"  Yes,    it   will   be    a    long,   weary   strife." 

His  peculiar  tones,  which  I  have  often  wished  I 
could  describe,  how  they  startled  everybody ! 
At  the  same  moment  he  drew  the  window  down 
with  a  touch .  of  his  elbow,  not  his  hands.  Then, 
over  the  muffled  rumble  of  the  speeding  train, 
he   cried  : 

"  I  foresee  years  of  blood !  I  foresee  hor 
ror   on    horror    piled.     It    is    not    given    unto    al 


324 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


men  to  read  the  future;  but  it  has  been  given, 
more  than  once,  to  me.  For  me,  poor  me,  the 
curtain   is   lifted,  often  of  late,  a7td  even  now!'' 

His  eyes  glowed  like  fire  points  in  the 
gloom.  His  long  dark  hands  were  extended, 
though  his  wrists  were  held  close  up  to  his 
chin;  his  fingers  played  in  the  air.  Grotesque 
and  ridiculous }  Yet  I  would  defy  you  to  have 
laughed  or  even  smiled,  the  speaker  himself 
was   so   sincere. 

<*I  foresee  the  long  line  of  our  sons,  there 
they  go,  trooping  to  destruction.  That  face 
will  never  come  back  again.  See.?  His  old 
father  is  looking  on,  as  the  boy  tears  off 
his  old  mother's  hands,  and  the  ranks  form. 
I  can  see  just  where  the  lad  will  fall  and  how 
he  will  fall.  I  could  point  out  his  future  wounds. 
I  could  paint  his  agony,  written  on  his  contorted 
features,  as  he  lies  there  gasping  for  water,  just 
under  a  shrub  that  resembles  our  Northern 
juniper.  Oh,  oh,  so  many  of  them  out  of  the 
ranks  on  ranks  that  I  see  marching  by,  could  I 
follow  to  the  fatal  end,  if  my  own  nerves  would 
only  endure  the  sight !  But  I  must  not ! "  shak- 
ing  his  head.  "I  will  not  speak  in  detail.  Do 
I   see  your   boy  there  and   mine.!*" 

A   shriek  from    Mrs.    Hardy   seemed   to   protest 
against   his  answering  his   own  question. 


THE  ACCURSED  SUPERSTITION  AGAIN.  32 J 

"  God  help  us,  man  !  This  is  dreadful  to  these 
women ! "  Mr.  Hardy  managed  to  exclaim ;  yet 
his  indignation  trembled  along  the  tones  that 
expressed   it. 

"Yes,  and  to  none  so  dreadful  as  to  me," 
resumed  the  man  with  the  fingers.  "Yonder 
city  all  in  flame !  Would  you  know  its  name } 
I  know  it;  but  I  hide  it.  Those  fields  covered 
with  the  crawling  forms  of  angry  worms,  on 
dreadful  carnage  bent.  A  battlefield,  at  this  dis- 
tance, seems  like  a  contest  of  worms.  They 
come  and  go,  under  curtains  of  smoke,  with 
varying  fortune ;  now  this  flag,  now  that.  Shall  I 
name  the  battle  and  give  you  the  result.?     It  — " 

"No!"  thundered  Mr.  Hardy,  "Man,  are  you, 
too,  insane }  To  no  man  has  the  good  God 
given   such   powers   as  you  claim  ! " 

Yet,  though  he  said  it  brave  enough,  even 
Philip  Hardy  seemed  to  have  lost  the  power  of  a 
sensible  man,  to  spring  to  his  feet,  and  either 
take  the  wizard  by  the  throat,  or  these  poor 
ladies  by  the  arm  and  lead  them  from  the 
room. 

"I  can  see  the  ships  that  sail  so  proud  away 
and  go  down  in  the  sea.  Why  will  men  embark 
m  that  one,  now  ? "  pointing  with  his  thumb  to 
some  imaginary  vessel.  "She  shall  surely  sink. 
I  could  tell  them  so.     I  — " 


326  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"Doctor  Smiles!"  now  pleaded  Mrs.  Hardy, 
her  ashen  features   stiff  with  fear. 

Madge  Hardy  sat  with  folded  arms,  shrunk 
into  the  corner,  her  lips  compressed,  her  usually 
sweet  face   hard   as   rock. 

Mrs.  Lane,  the  widow,  alone  sat  serene  and 
like  one  intoxicated.  She  drank  in  every  pro- 
phetic word  without  a  sign  either  of  fear  or 
distress.  Her  hands  lay,  easy,  in  her  lap.  She 
had  not  spoken,  you  observe,  for  many  minutes. 
There  was  even  a  passing  gleam  of  exultation 
in  her  eyes,  as  if  her  vindication  for  a  "mon- 
strous belief,"  as  the  Hardys  had  often  called  it, 
were   come   at   last. 

None  of  them  had  observed  the  spotted  fire 
that  now  began  to  sparkle  out  of  the  windows, 
the  lamps  of  a  city's  suburbs ;  but  perhaps  the 
slowing  of  the  train  was  just  the  help  that 
sturdy  Philip  Hardy  stood  in  need  of.  With  a 
jerk   he  got   upon  his   feet   saying  : 

"  New  Haven,   thank  the  living  God ! " 

"Why,   papa!"   responded   Madge. 

"I  never  meant  it  so  much  in  any  prayer- 
meeting  in  my  life,"  said  her  father.  "Thank 
the  living  God,  who  yet  rules  his  own  world, 
that  we  are  still  in  a  real  world  of  flesh  and 
blood,    with    New    Haven    five    and    thirty  miles 


THE  ACCURSED  SUPERSTITION  AGAIN.   327 

Jrom  Hartford !  A  lunch  room  and  biscuit  ? 
Anything  material  to  dispel  these  delusions  in 
which  we  have  been  passing  the  last,  strangest 
half-hour   of   my   life." 

And  without  a  word  he  took  the  unresisting 
arms  of  wife  and  daughter,  leading  them  from 
the  compartment. 

"It  makes  one  think  of  the  Saviour's  words 
in  the  presence  of  the  supernatural :  '  Children, 
have   ye   any  meat  ?  *  " 

It   was   Mrs.    Hardy  that   said   it. 

"  Do  n't,  my  dear ;  do  n't  couple  that  sacred 
name  with  any  such  scenes  as  we  have  just 
passed  through,"  groaned  the  excited  husband,  as 
he  conducted  them  to  their  seats,  as  far  away, 
fortunately,    as   possible. 

**  Can   you   eat } "   asked   his   wife. 

"Ravenously!"  was  the  response  of  this  natu- 
ral  man. 

"Well,  order  it  of  the  porter,  papa,"  whis- 
pered Madge,  clinging  about  him.  "Do  not 
leave   us.     We   are    not   hungry." 

It  was  so  arranged.  And  as  they  began 
again  their  journey,  flying  through  the  sultry 
night,   they   talked. 

"It  was  not  so  much  what  he  said,"  —  then 
chicken  — ^ "  as    the  actions    of  "  —  chicken,  —  "  the 


328  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

man.  I  never  want  to  see  him  again ! "  gnawing 
at   the   chicken-bone. 

"But   can   you   explain   it,    papa?" 

"He  has  simply  shown  himself  a  most  delight- 
ful gentleman,  Philip,  during  our  stay  at  Mar- 
tha's. He  did  not  call  except  when  she  sent 
for  him.  He  is  full  of  travel,  books,  a  thousand 
little  interesting  bits  of  scientific  knowledge,  like 
the  lectures  of  last  winter,  you  remember.  Of 
course,  like  all  scientific  men  of  these  times,  it 
is  evident  that  he  is  an  unbeliever.  Rather, 
he  has  a  curious  religion  of  his  own.  But  he 
never  antagonized  ours,  nor  other  than  respected 
all  our  opinions  and  wishes.  At  times,  to  be 
sure,  he  was  alone  with  Martha,  treating  her. 
But,"  with  a  shudder,  "we  never  had  any  such 
scenes   as   this ! " 

She  gave  this  strong  man  time  to  finish  his 
eating.  Happy  he  in  whom  mental  excitement 
excites  hunger.  He  will  last ;  he  will  not  long 
lose   his   balance. 

"Of  course  all  such  people  have  their  attrac- 
tive qualities,"  began  Mr.  Hardy.  "  He  is  a  very 
fine-looking  man.  He  has  had  a  good  education. 
He  is  engaging  because  he  seems  always  compe- 
tent and  strong.  He  has  a  fund  of  incidents 
necessarily,    if,    as    you     say,     he     has     travelled 


THE  ACCURSED  SUPERSTITION  AGAIN.   329 

But  he  is  simply  an  adventurer,  when  you  have 
said   all,"    slapping   his   own   round   knee. 

"But,  papa,"  timidly  remarked  Madge,  "you 
yourself  must  acknowledge  that  he  strangely  im- 
pressed  even   you." 

"  Yes,   for  —  the  —  the   moment." 

"And  you  have  not  quite  recovered  from  the 
spell  even  yet,  Philip,"  mused  Mrs.  Hardy.  "  I 
can  always  tell  when  you  are  laboring  under 
excitement." 

"True,  wife,"  he  responded  gravely.  "And 
mainly  am  I  troubled  to  think  what  is  coming 
when  we  get  to  New  York.  What  a  study  it 
was!  What  a  comment  on  the  way  Lane  reared 
and  governed  his  family !  Oh,  I  used  to  warn 
him  of  the  results  of  no  religion,  no  Sabbath, 
his  skeptical  library  and  free  thinking,  as  he 
called  it." 

"Yes,"  sighed  Mrs.  Hardy.  "You  observed 
how  poor  dear  Laura's  peril  was  forgotten  by 
her  own  mother,  in  her  contemplation  of  this 
prophet." 

"Prophet!"  Hardy  blurted  out.  "Will  he  dare 
attempt  to  accompany  her  to  bluff  old  Captain 
Broon's  residence.^  I  only  wish  he  would,  though! 
The  truth  and  a  lie  would  meet  for  once  face 
to  face." 


330  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"That  is  just  it,  papa,"  eagerly  put  in  Madge. 
'*He  will  leave  us  at  the  station.  He  will  join 
his  son.  He  has  protested  all  the  way  down,  at 
intervals,  that  he  only  accompanied  auntie  on 
her   importunate  insistence." 

"That  is  true,  Philip.  Do  you  expect  to  find 
Mark   at   the   house.?"   asked   Mrs.    Hardy. 

"  Yes ;  but  he  will,  of  course,  go  back  to  the 
army  as   soon  as   she   is   fit   to  leave." 

"  Dreadful,  is  n't  it }  What  will  be  the  solu- 
tion  of  the   difficulty.?" 

"Why,  next  Tuesday  Captain  Broon  will  have 
to  take  his  ship.  And  I  trust  the  poor  girl 
will  be  well  enough  to  cross  the  ocean  with 
him  and  his  wife.  It  will  be  the  very  best 
thing  for  such  a  disease." 


SINK  OR  FLOAT, 


331 


XV. 
SINK  OR  FLOAT. 


U  TI3ETTER,  my  dear  lady!     Decidedly  calm- 
er !     Yes,   yes.     Thank  God !     So   much 
so     that     Mark     took     passage     for      camp      this 


It  was  hearty  old  Captain  Broon  who  said  it, 
addressing  Mrs.  Lane  at  the  car  door,  under 
the   lights   of  the  Grand    Central   depot. 

"Ah,  well,"  sighed  the  lady,  "take  me  to 
my  dear  child  at  once.  I  must  rely  on  you, 
brother,*'  turning  to  Mr.  Hardy,  "and  on  you, 
my  good  friend,"  turning  now  to  Captain  Broon, 
and  then  very  disconsolately  to  both,  "for  the 
help  in  walking  that  my  dear  doctor  has  de- 
nied me." 

Indeed,  she  stood  on  the  stone  platform  alone. 
To  their  amazement  Madge  Hardy  and  her  father 
had  seen  her  come  to  the  car  step  alone.  On 
the  blank  features  of  Mrs.  Hardy  at  her  back 
they  looked  in  vain  for  an  explanation.  She 
had    been    commissioned    to    seek    that     compart 


332  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

ment,  and  escort  her  sister  and  Doctor  Smiles ; 
but  Mrs.  Hardy's  lips  barely  stammered  it  out : 

"The  —  the   gentleman   is   gone!" 

"Oh,  yes,"  responded  Mrs.  Lane,  sadly.  "He 
only  consented  to  accompany  me  after  the  most 
strenuous  urging.  He  finally  yielded  only  because 
he  had  a  patient  here.  See  ?  With  those  peo- 
ple.    He   is   going   direct   to   their   residence." 

"  So  that  ends  that,"  said  Mr.  Hardy  with  a 
broad   smile   of   relief. 

A  remark  which  Captain  Broon  puzzled  over 
for  a  moment,  studying  with  elevated  brows  and 
chin    the   departing   group. 

"  Oh,  ah,  yes.  Ends  it }  Came  with  you  ? " 
the  captain  suddenly  broke  out,  as  if  a  good 
many  things  had  all  at  once  dawned  on  him. 
"I  wish  I  was  sure  it  did  end  it,"  he  half 
growled   aside   to   the   ex-mayor. 

Then  the  two  gentlemen  addressed  themselves 
to  the  task  of  kindly  supporting  the  widow  out 
to   the   carriage.     ^ 

We  have  not,  therefore,  to  record  any  scene 
on  the  arrival  of  the  party.  At  Captain  Broon's 
elegant  mansion  the  visitors  were  received  in  the 
conventional  manner  with  cordial  hosts  the  world 
ever.  The  meeting  between  the  invalid  mother 
and  the  ever-beautiful    invalid   daughter  was   con- 


SINK  OR  FLOAT. 


333 


ventional  to  that  degree  that  the  reader's  imag- 
ination   can    easily   depict   it. 

Laura  was  convalescent,  though  still  confined 
<o  her  room.  It  was  thought  best  "not  to  put 
the  young  wife  to  the  strain  of  another  part- 
ing from  her  husband,"  as  the  physicians  agreed ; 
hence  the  general,  her  husband,  would  not  return 
to  see  the  party  sail.  Mark  had  fallen  in  with 
the  arrangement  with  costly  resolve.  He  suf- 
fered the  home  circle  to  use  whatever  artifice 
was  necessary;  he  would  "be  detained  in  the 
vicinity  of  Washington,*'  and  indeed  that  required 
no  acting,  for  his  new  duties  almost  necessitated 
his   presence   there. 

It  required,  however,  all  the  magnetic  and 
paternal  kindness  of  the  old  captain  to  reason 
and  persuade  Laura  that  it  was  best  for  her 
not  to  subject  herself  to  the  trial  of  saying  a 
formal   farewell. 

"  For,  you  poor  dear,  you  will  be  back  again 
in  less  than  a  month,  a  new  woman.  The  two 
passages,  over  and  back,  will  make  you  blooming 
as  a  rose,"  said  the  old  fellow.  "The  noble  boy 
kissed  you,  so  sweet  sleepin'  as  you  were  the 
other  morning,  that  morning  that  you  begun  to 
get  better,  and  went  ofif  like  a  hero.  He's  a 
great  soldier  now.  He  leads  five  thousand  men 
down    South." 


334  ^     WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"Yes,  I  know,  father,"  she  replied,  through 
her  tears,  it  must  be  confessed.  "He  writes  me 
this  morning  that  he  will  sail  from  this  port  to 
somewhere  about  New  Orleans  the  very  week 
after  we   sail." 

She  began  to  tremble  again  at  that  thought. 

"  But  I  do  hope  that  he  will  have  nothing  to 
do   with   vessels   furnished   by  — " 

And  her  arm  that  lay  in  Captain  Broon's,  as 
they  gently  paced  the  long  parlors,  began  to 
press  him  so  heavily  that  he  conducted  her  to  a 
seat,    saying : 

"  Exercise  enough,  child.  I  do  n't  believe  in 
the  doctors  much.  Not  walkin*  on  land,  but  walk- 
in  on  deck  '11  do  it.  The  spoondrift  '11  make 
your   eyes   shine." 

"Spoondrift?" 

"The  fly  in'  foam  from  a  windy  sea,  my  dear. 
We   call  it   spoondrift." 

"  We  shall  learn  all  about  spoondrift,"  exclaimed 
bright  Madge  Hardy,  dashing  in  and  swooping 
down  at  her  cousin 's  side.  "  We  shall  eat 
hearty,  and  give  the  ship  a  good  name,  eh. 
Captain  1  And  do  lots  of  things.  For  I  am  going 
too !     Papa   has   consented." 

"Ye-a-s;  of  course.  Knew  he  would  veer 
round,"  laughed  the  captain,  as  he  left  them. 


SINK  OR  FLOAT, 


335 


Mrs.   Lane   yielded   to  her  sister's   importunities, 

and   made   ready    to    go     up    to    S with    the 

Hardys   till   Laura    and     the    Broons    had    finibhecl 
at   least   one   voyage. 

The    morning    came,    bright,    beautiful,    Septem 
her     morning.      The    three     ladies,     Mrs.     Charles 
Broon,     Mrs.     Mark     Broon,     and     Madge     Hardy 
came    down    the    steps    of    the    mansion,    having 
turned    the    key    in    the    door.     The     Hardys    had 

gone   back  to  S ,    taking  the  widow  along,  the 

evening  before,  to  spare  her  the  excitement  of  the 
bustUng  scene  on  the  dock. 

Old  Captain  Broon  was  already  on  his  bridge, 
scanning  his  everlasting  last  things  to  be  done 
before  the  Atlantic  began  to  turn  her  wheels. 

*'  A  magnificent  man  in  that  uniform ! "  ex- 
claimed Laura,  as  the  carriage  drew  up  at  the 
gangway,  and  all  three  of  the  ladies  caught  a  full 
view  of  the  dear  old  fellow,  bending  over  and 
throwing  down  a  salute  to  them. 

**  Yes,  indeed,"  said  his  wife,  in  her  quiet,  kind 
way,  but  glowing  with  pride,  it  was  plain  enough 
to  be  seen.  "But  a  great  deal  more  magnificent 
in  soul." 

"  Of  course,"  Madge  puts  in.  **  But  he  looks 
too  grand  for  anything,  does  n*t  he  t " 

To  which   they  all  assented    evidently,    whatever 


336  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

such  form  of  words,  frequent  on  the  young  lady's 
.'ips,  may  mean. 

Then  there  was  diving  through  little  doorways, 
threading  narrow  passageways,  finding  the  splen- 
did apartments  which  had  been  put  at  the  dis- 
posal of  the  captain's  party.  There  were  many 
little  surprises  of  comforts  and  luxuries,  delight- 
ful explorations  of  nooks  and  corners,  and  at- 
tempts  to  arrange  what  needed  not  to  be  ar* 
ranged ;  all  of  which  occupied  Laura  and  the 
captain's   careful   wife.     But  Madge  Hardy  said : 

**  You  fix  things.  I  'm  going  up  with  Captain 
Broon." 

Yet,  truth  is,  she  got  no  further  than  the 
after-deck,  where  she  stood  long,  using  her  glass, 
which  she  trained  out  on  the  shipping  that 
crowded  the  neighboring  piers.  She  had  been 
thinking  all  day  that  it  might  be,  just  possibly 
might  be,  and,  as  the  carriage  turned  into  West 
street,  she  was  sure  she  had  seen  another  uni- 
form. Yes,  sure ;  but  not  for  the  world  would 
she  have  even  hinted  it  to  Laura,  or  betrayed 
it  by  any  sign.     And  now,  yes,  there   he  is. 

Colonel  Smiles  stood  on  the  house  of  a  steam- 
er fast  tied  near  by.  Of  course  he  was  only 
about  his  duties.  Indeed,  he  seemed  to  be  quite 
occupied,    and     only    casually    to     have     cast     his 


SINK  OR  FLOAT, 


337 


eyes  up  on  the  departing  ocean  steamer,  always 
an  interesting  sight.  The  waist  of  the  steamer 
on  which  he  stood  was  swarming  with  mechan- 
ics, under  his  observation.  Of  course,  the  pres- 
ence of  his  father,  plainly  to  be  seen  also 
lounging  and  smoking  about  ships,  was  natural, 
and  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  young  colonel's 
information  as  to  the  movements  of  the  Hardys. 

The  young  officer  wore  his  dress  well.  Au- 
thority, too,  became  him.  Madge  Hardy,  herself 
charmingly  revealed  on  the  almost  deserted  after- 
deck,  exulted,  with  a  little  ripple  of  delight,  to 
think  that  she  was,  after  all,  nearer  right  about 
the  capabilities  of  the  young  man  than  any  one 
else   of  her  company   seemed   to   have   been. 

"  A  woman  can  read  a  man,  and  detect  what  is 
in  him,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  Who  dare  say  he 
is  not  manly-looking,  for  all  his  poor  eyes }  He 
wears  a  dreadfully  grave  face,  though,"  studying 
him  through  the  glass,  for  they  had  now  ex- 
changed flutter  of  handkerchief  and  doffing  of  cap. 
"  It  is  his  responsibilities,  though,  I  suppose," 
she  added. 

He  now  raised  a  glass.  She  thought  he  turned 
it  on  every  part  of  the  Atlantic^  as  if  in  search 
of  someone  else. 

"Not  to  be   seen,   I   hope,   sir." 


338  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME 

Madge  spoke  it   sadly. 

And  then  Captain  Broon  having  sent  an  escort 
to  conduct  her  at  least  to  the  bridge  to  see  the 
ship  start,  she  turned  away.  The  great  vessel 
had   begun  her  long  journey. 

It  was  not  until  they  were  half-way  to  the 
Narrows  that  Laura  and  Mrs.  Broon  joined  them 
behind  the  shelter  of  the  captain's  canvas.  But 
by  that  time  it  was  not  possible  to  distinguish 
aught  except  the  great  Humanity  whose  dwelling- 
places  lay  along  these  neighboring   shores. 

From  the  housetop  where  Col.  Erastus  Smiles 
yet  stood  and  studied  the  vacant  wharf  where 
the  Atlantic  lay  so  recently,  the  long  black  hull 
of  that  outward-bound  vessel  might  for  a  time 
have  been  seen.  But  our  young  officer  never 
once  looked  after  her.  Which  of  the  two  young 
women  were  in  his  mind?  Both,  evidently;  with 
thoughts  inclined  to  linger  on  the  one  who  had 
done  him  the  courtesy  of  a  farewell;  for,  as  he 
dropped  his  elbow  on  the  corner  of  a  sky-light, 
he   remarked  aloud : 

"A  noble  woman!  Really,  if  one  had  never 
seen  the  other,  or,*'  a  long  silence,  gazing  down 
through  the  glass  into  the  dim  cabin,  then  sud- 
denly looking  up  and  finishing  the  sentence,  "if 
I  could  do  something,  or  ever  had  done  any- 
thing worthy,    I   should  say,  of  either  I" 


SINK  OR  FLOAT,  33^ 

■ - 

"I    say,    Rati" 

It  was   his   father's   shout  from   below. 

"Yes,   sir.     I'll   be   down   directly." 

"No,  stay  there.  I'll  come  up,  if  I  can  evef 
find  the — gangway.     Isn't   it   gangway?" 

"  Companionway,  perhaps  you  mean,  sir.  But 
I  call  it  the  stairway.  Precious  little  I  know 
about  vessels.  Right  ahead  of  you  to  the  right, 
sir,"  was  the  colonel's  reply,  seating  himself  on 
a  life-raft  and  awaiting  what  he  suspected  was  a 
serious  interview. 

Whatever  Erastus  Smiles'  opinion  of  his  father 
might  be,  however  unwelcome  this  particular  con. 
ference  seemed,  now,  as  ever,  the  admirable 
thing  about  the  fellow  was  that  he  treated  his 
parent  with  perfect  outward  respect.  There  is 
always  hope  „  for  any  man  who  is  yet  capable  of 
that. 

"  Do  n't  know  much  about  vessels,  eh } "  said 
the  doctor,  lounging  into  an  attitude  before  his 
son,  and  offering  him  a  cigar,  which  the  young 
man  declined.  "Neither" — puff,  puff,  at  light- 
ing his  own  fresh  cigar,  — "  neither  do  I  under- 
stand much  about  vessels.  But  I  guess  I  shall 
make  a  good  thing  out  of  this  one.  I  bought 
one-half  interest  in  her  for  forty  thousand;  and 
if  you  accept   her,     as    of    course    you    will,    we 


340 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


sell  her  to  the  government  for  just  one  hundred 
and   thirty  thousand  dollars.     How  's   that  ?  '* 

*'  Father ! "  exclaimed  the  young  man,  spring- 
ing to  his  feet  and  straightening  up,  every  inch 
of  him. 

If  you,  reader,  who  first  saw  him  months  ago, 
in  dandy  dress,  and  with  an  adventurer's  cun- 
ning face,  could  have  seen  him  now;  if  even 
Laura  Lane  Broon  could,  and  changed  her  con- 
tempt to  admiration;  if  ex-mayor  Hardy  could, 
it  would  have  helped  matters  decidedly.  As  for 
Madge,   she  had   no   need   to,    I   suspect. 

"Well,"  sending  out  smoke  wreaths  on  the 
sultry,  breathless  air.  "And  what  has  struck 
you   now,   my   son.^" 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  sir,"  Erastus 
began,  self-possessed  and  respectful  outwardly 
again,  "that  you  are  an  interested  party  in  my 
judgment   of  these  vessels?" 

"I  told  you  the  truth  about  a  cool  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollar  profit  on  this  Storm  Kingy" 
was  the  reply. 

But  there  was  just  a  shade  of  the  recent  and 
unaccustomed  awe  of  his  son  in  the  speaker's 
features. 

"You  don't  decide  on  her,  of  course.  You 
have  inspectors;    the  best    judges    of    ships    that 


SINK  OR  FLOAT,  34, 


you  can  hire,  I  hope,"  with  a  sly  wink.  "The 
insurance  men  took  her  for  us  a  month  ago, 
though  I  confess  at  a  heavy  premium,  —  but  they 
took  her.  There's  a  way  to  fix  even  that. 
Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  the  boy?  He  is 
white  as   marble.     Are  you   sick?" 

"No,  no,"  was  the  reply,  waving  off  the 
dreadful  fingers  that  began  to  reach  for  his 
wrist,  "I  am  well  enough,  sir,  in  body.  Would 
to   Heaven   I   were  not!     I— -father!" 

"  What  ? " 

"Do  you  want  to  hear  the  plain  truth  from 
me  ? " 

"Speak  your  mind,  boy,"  dropping  his  black 
eyes  to  the  deck,  and  drawing  vigorously  at  his 
cigar, 

"I  am  not  the  one  to  tell  it  to  you,  sir,  for 
I  am  child  and  you  parent.  T  can,  however,  tell 
you  what  I  shall  do.  First,  God  helping  me,  I 
will  live  a  clean  life  the  short  remnant  that  is 
left  me.  Second,  I  will  have  nothing  whatever 
to  do  with  my  office  from  this  moment  but  to 
go  there  and  write  my  resignation.  Third,  I 
pray  you,  for  your  children's  sakes,  for  our 
mother's  sake,  for  your  own,  sir,"  his  voice 
throbbed  with  his  heart,  "to  abandon  utterly  all 
that  you  have  entered  upon  with  Mrs.  Lane's 
farm—" 


342  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

^j  —  ■~'"~— ~'"^ 

"  That  is  my  business.  Talk  about  the 
steamers,  Rat.     That  is   all   that    concerns  you." 

Cigar  gone,   and   thumbs   now   in   use. 

"Pardon  me.  It  is  not  all  that  concerns  me. 
You  are  now  defendant  in  an  unsavory  lawsuit 
urged  on  by  that  lady's  daughter.  We  all  suf- 
fer under  the  ill  repute.  But  I  leave  that  to 
you.  I  have  a  fourth  point  of  personal  explana- 
tion, and  it  is  all  the  more  fixed  in  my  mind 
by  your  last  remark.  I  shall  at  once  apply  to 
my  noble  friend,  —  for  he  shall  be  such  to  me  — 
General  Broon,  for  any  post  of  danger  in  his 
command  that  will  give  me  a  chance  to  die, 
without   actually   throwing   life   away." 

"  You  want  to  die,  eh  ?  It  is  common  with 
young  men  in  certain  experiences  of   early  life." 

Disregarding  the  sneer,  with  perfect  self-com- 
mand  now,   the   colonel   resumed  : 

"  I  want  to  redeem  life,  if  I  am  to  live.  If 
I  am  to  live,  sir,  life  shall  be  handed  back  to 
me,  from  Death  itself,  as  a  new  gift.  You  know 
I  never  quite  consented  to  this  going  to  war  in 
a   New  York  office." 

"  But   Broon  goes   South  next  week." 

"I   told   you   so,   father." 

"And  in  this   steamer,   with   others." 

"I    fear    so.     It    is    all    we    have.     These    old 


SINK  OR  FLOAT,  343 


hulks,"  looking  round,  "as  the  inspectors  call 
them,  are  the  best  we  have.  Unfortunately,  or 
fortunately,  I  had  accepted  the  vessels  before  1 
knew  that  you  had  any  interest  in  one  of  them. 
Now,  on  every  account  of  honor,  I  am  bound  to 
go   to   sea   in   one   of   them." 

He  waited  deferentially  for  any  reply  his 
father   might    see   fit   to  make. 

But  Dr.  Smiles  had  no  reply.  He  seated  him- 
self on  the  skylight,  and  pressed  his  thumbs  to- 
gether in  unbroken  silence.  When  his  son  asked 
him  if  he  would  accompany  him  back  to  the 
office,  there  was  no  reply.  When  the  son  sug- 
gested that  they  meet  to  lunch  at  the  Astor 
House  about  noon,  there  was  no  reply.  When 
the  son  begged  his  father  to  consider  the  hot 
September  sun  and  not  expose  himself  longer  on 
the  housetop,  there  was  no  reply.  Then,  reason- 
ing  from  a  long  experience,  Erastus  Smiles 
turned   to   go,   saying: 

"You  will  at  least  bid  me  good -morning, 
father.?" 

"  Good  -  morning "  was  given,  and  then  the 
thumbs  began  again  to  press  and  roll  each  other, 
with   all   the   fingers    busily  engaged   as   well. 

After  a  while,  in  the  stillness  and  the  soli 
tude,   when   an  hour  had  passed,   say,  Dr.   Smiles 


344 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-SIME. 


raised  his  head,  and  his  eyes  followed  every  line 
of  the  steamer  up  and  down.  If  there  was  a 
rail  or  shroud,  a  nook  or  corner,  a  mast  or 
spar,  a  boat  or  davit  that  he  did  not  study,  it 
was  not  his  fault.  He  read  the  steamer  like  a 
horoscope.  He  stared  a  hard,  searching  ques- 
tioner at  the  inanimate  thing,  as  if  she  had  a 
soul,  and  could  answer  to  his  stare.  His  feat- 
ures worked  into  that  forbidding  guise  which  we 
have  seen  them  wear,  to  the  widow's  terror  in 
the  farm-house  parlor,  to  the  Hardys*  shock  and 
wonder  in  the  railway  car.  But  here  he  was 
alone;  there  was  no  effect  to  be  wrought  on 
others ;  it  was  an  effect  which  he  wrought  upon 
himself,  wretched  man.  At  all  events,  he  was 
undoubtedly  under  some  spell.  From  deck  to 
sky  the  black  glances  turned.  He  was  now  on 
his  feet.  His  hands  were  clasped  behind  him. 
His  head  was  thrown  violently  backward.  His 
hat  was  fallen  to  the  floor.  In  relief  against 
the  broad  new  sail  of  a  lazy  lighter  alongside 
his  professional  broadcloth  enhancing  the  effect, 
he  was  a  maniac,  a  possible  suicide  of  the  next 
moment ;  spectators  knew  not  what  he  was. 
Workmen,  tinning  the  roof  of  the  neighboring 
pier-shed,  stopped  to  look  at  him ;  but,  being 
New  Yorkers   who   never    spoil   a   possible  sensa 


SINK  OR  FLOAT. 


345 


tion,  they  uttered  no  protest,  waiting  to  see  him 
plunge.  J  have  conversed  with  one  of  these 
men,   and   verified   my  narrative. 

But  Doctor  Smiles  did  not  spring  from  that 
housetop.  Instead,  after  a  long,  agonized  study 
of  the  hazy  September  sky,  with  a  groan  and  a 
stamp  of  the  delicate  boot  upon  the  sounding 
floor,   he    cried : 

**She  will  sink!  This  steamer  is  one  of  the 
fated  number !  And  Rat  on  her !  Who  will 
believe  me,  if  I  tell  them,  warning  them,  how  I 
know  ? " 

With  that,  by  jerks  his  head  took  the  natural 
position  on  his  shoulders ;  by  jerks  his  back- 
pulled  shoulders  came  into  place;  by  jerks  he 
drew  in  a  natural  breath  again.  It  was  all  in 
spasms,  like  reviving  from  a  fit,  — his  bringing 
his  hands  to  the  front,  his  reaching  for  and 
snatching  up  the  hat,  and  finally  his  walking 
away.  People  saw  him  cross  the  torrid  open 
West  street  with  springs,  and  curious  boys  would 
soon  have  followed  had  he  not.  hailed  a  cab 
and   disappeared   from   view. 

Could  this  man  read  the  future }  I  am  not 
asserting  that  he  could;  I  am  only  describing  with 
facts.  You  are  aware  that,  though  no  sailor,  he 
was  a  very   capable    man   in    whatsoever    direction 


346  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

he  turned  his  attention.  He  had  had  reason  to 
be  informed  as  to  the  real  condition  of  the 
vessels  in  which  he  had  been  speculating ;  their 
seaworthiness,  their  age,  their  value.  He  had 
been  prowling  about  this  particular  steamer  half 
the  morning,  using  his  own  eyes.  But,  over  and 
above  all  that  normal  method  of  forming  a  judg- 
ment, it  was  evident  that  the  strange  man  had 
come  himself  to  put  faith  in  these  nervous 
paroxysms  of  his  by  the  long  practice  of  their 
effects   upon   other  men. 

"Who  will  believe  me  if  I  tell  them,  warning 
them,  how   I   know  ? " 

One  is  rather  glad  to  learn  that  he  ever  said 
that.  It  is  at  least  one  ray  of  sincerity.  He, 
at  least,  believed  in  his  own  wild,  superstitious 
vision  more  than  in  all  that  his  natural  eyes 
had  seen.  But,  then,  that  is  a  common  experience 
with  practitioners  in  delusions ;  they  become 
themselves   the  most   deluded. 

Doctor  Smiles  must  have  wandered  about  town^ 
aimlessly,  for  some  time.  Doubtless  he  was 
debating  the  various  alternatives  of  his  position. 
Certainly  any  one  of  them  was  distressing 
enough.  If  his  son  resigned,  his  trade  and  its 
big  profit  might  even  yet  fall  through.  Then 
would   come   possible   exposure  of  his  indifference, 


SINK  OR   FLOAT. 


347 


to  say  the  least,  as  regards  the  safety  of  patri- 
otic soldiers,  which  would  hurt  his  professional 
standing  greatly  in  these  patriotic  days.  May 
be  would  come  another  lawsuit  and  a  criminal 
prosecution;  as  yet  he  had  not,  to  his  knowl- 
edge, been  so  arraigned  in  the  Lane  matter. 
If  Erastus  should  really  go  to  war  and  get 
himself  killed, — well,  to  tell  the  truth,  this  dan- 
ger terrorized  him  most ;  for,  after  his  own 
fashion,  the  man  was  affectionate  towards  his 
own,  and  would,  as  he  had,  risk  all  to  make 
this  boy's  fortune  in  the  way  he  judged  desira- 
ble. But  to  hazard  the  utter  and  final  loss  of 
every  shred  of  the  son's  shaken  and  already 
faiUng  affection  by  confessing  that  he  was  not 
ignorant  of  the  condition  of  those  steamers  all 
the  while,  and  now  beg  and  pray  the  boy  not 
to  go  in  one  of  them!  how  could  he  do  this, 
unless  he  coupled  with  it  an  humble  penitent 
turning  from  all  his  ways }  But  he  had  come 
to   half  believe  in   his   own   necromancy. 

It  was  the  twilight  of  that  evening  before 
Doctor  Smiles,  half  frantic  and  utterly  unmanned 
in  spite  of  himself,  burst  desperately  in  at  the 
door  of  the  government  office  in  lower  Broad- 
way with: 

"My  son?    Is   he  at  liberty?    Card!" 


348 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


"  He  is  gone  these  two  hours,  sir,"  replied 
the   clerk. 

It  flashed  upon  him  instantly  —  and  it  made 
the  man  stagger  —  whither  his  son  had  gone, 
yet   he   asked : 

"Whither?" 

"To   Washington,"    was   the   careless    reply. 

Indeed,  it  was  an  unimportant  fellow  who 
lingered  behind,  arranging  newspaper  files  and 
doing  odds   and   ends,   before   closing. 

"  Has  —  has  he  resigned }  " 

A  dull,  surprised  stare  in  reply  showed  th'e 
doctor  how  foolishly  he  was  acting  and  talking. 
He  turned  and  was  about  to  descend,  to  his 
carriage.  He  lingered  a  moment,  however,  in 
that  distraught  state  of  mind  that  overwhelms 
one  when  the  man  you  must  see  or  be  ruined 
is  simply  not  to  be  seen.  Striving  to  collect 
and  rearrange  his  plans,  he  stepped  up  to  the 
great  window  and  stood  there,  looking  vacantly 
out.  Suddenly  he  beckoned  with  his  hand,  and 
said,   aloud  : 

"Come  in!     Come  over!" 

Directly  the  door  was  pushed  nervously  open, 
and  a  small,  gray-haired  gentleman  entered.  The 
stranger  scanned  the  empty  office  furtively.  Ob 
serving     the     clerk,     down    the    room,    he    spoke 


SINK  OR  FLOAT, 


349 


very  low,  as  he  took  the  doctor's  outstretched 
hand : 

"It's  a  bad   business  all  round,  Doc." 

"Oh,  you  lawyers  always  say  so,"  growled 
Smiles,    in   reply.     "What   now?" 

"That  old  Broon,  a  perfect  sledge-hammer  of 
a   man,  direct   as  a   blow  from   the  shoulder  — " 

"Come,  Cretley,  you  and  I  have  talked  about 
Broon   before   this.     What's   the   latest?" 

"Well,  he's  gone  off  to  sea.  His  son's  in 
new  honors.  They  have  left  the  entire  case  to 
one   of  the   best   firms   here   in   town,    and  — " 

"And  what,   man?" 

"I've  been  looking  for  you  all  day.  There  is 
a   warrant   out   for   your   arrest." 

This  the  lawyer  whispered  in  the  already  bur- 
dened ear  of  a  man  who  had  never  come  so 
near  losing   his   self-possession   before. 

"The   case?"    Smiles  demanded. 

"  Criminal   attempt   to   defraud." 

"Will  it   lie?" 

"  Oh,  but  you  do  n't^  want  to  have  it  tried. 
You,    a   famous   specialist." 

"What  shall  I  do?  But  of  course  I  can  get 
bail   easily   enough." 

"Not   to-night.     Court   hours   over." 

"A   night   in   prison!'^ 


350 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME 


How  fast  these  whispers  flew  between  the  two 
quick-witted   men. 

"Or,  you  take  the  evening  train  for  Montreal, 
—  on  business,  of  course,  to  see  a  great  man, 
or  woman,  eh  ? "  with  a  sly  chuckle  to  encour- 
age the  client  always,  "who  is  a  patient  of 
yours  up  there.  You  will  be  back  any  day. 
May  be  expected  to-morrow,  to  confront  this  foul 
calumny,  etc.,  all  of  which  I  shall  arrange  for 
the  papers.  Now  be  off.  They  will  hardly  be 
prepared  for  so  abrupt  a  departure,  and  you  '11 
be   safe." 

At  the  door  of  the  carriage  Smiles  turned  to 
say: 

"  But  I  can  *t  come  back   to-morrow,  Cretley." 

"No,  no.  Not  for  a  month.  Can't  you  get 
conveniently   sick   up   there.?'* 

"But,"  and  Smiles  drew  back  to  the  side- 
walk,—  "but,  I  say,  Cretley,  it  takes  my  breath 
away.  I  can't  be  gone  so  long.  I  must  see  my 
son. 

"Go  ahead,  man,"  was  the  reply,  with  a  push 
towards  the  carriage  door.  "Give  me  your  mes- 
sage  to   the   colonel." 

"I  cannot  give  it.  Neither  can  I  stay.  Oh, 
ye  fates,  what  may  transpire  in  a  month's 
time?" 


SJNK   OR  FLOAT. 


35 


As  the  vehicle  rattled  up  the  great  thorough- 
fare the  lawyer  followed  it  with  glances  from 
under  his  heavy  brows.  He  seemed  half  expect- 
ant of  the  man's  return.  But,  after  a  while, 
losing  sight  of  the  carriage  in  the  throng,  he 
dismissed  such  a  fear  and  went  on  up  to  his 
club,  which  was  not  bad.  The  lawyer  forgets 
his  client,  when  out  of  sight,  as  the  doctor  had 
often  forgotten  his  patient,  when  out  of  sight 
After  all,  patient  and  client  must  bear  each  his 
own   troubles. 


552  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


XVI. 

WHAT  THE  SEA  DID  TO  THE  SOLDIER. 

"Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  the  boys  arc  marching, 
Cheer  up,  comrades,  we  will  come." 

XT  was  the  sidewalk  throng  that  started  the 
song,  as  the  troops  turned  from  Chambers 
street  into  Broadway  ;  though  in  those  early  days 
of  the  war  the  volunteer  soldiery  were  them- 
selves often  permitted  to  sing  and  shout  up. 
roarously  the  soul-stirring  choruses  which  set  on 
fire   many  a  previously  lukewarm   heart. 

But  in  the  streets  of  the  metropolis  General 
Broon  had  decided  that  it  would  be  more 
becoming  to  quiet  even  the  music  of  the  bands, 
and  with  the  solemn  throb  of  the  drums  alone 
to  traverse  so  much  of  the  city  as  it  was 
necessary  to  pass  over  on  their  way  to  the 
Battery,  where  the  transports  were  awaiting 
them. 

It  was  just  three  weeks  after  the  incidents 
related  in    the    preceding    chapter.     Delay  is  one 


WHAT  THE  SEA  DID  TO  THE  SOLDIER,   353 

of  the  chief  fangs  of  the  serpent  War.  The 
bright  October  sunlight,  the  cool  air  and  the 
changing  attitudes  of  the  now  thoroughly  loyal 
city,  conspired  always,  of  late,  to  fill  the  thor- 
oughfares with  onlookers  as  often  as  troops 
passed.  At  the  cry,  "  Soldiers !  '*  every  clerk 
would  leave  his  desk,  nearly  every  merchant 
drop  his  business,  and  hasten  to  doors  and  win. 
dows.  It  takes  an  earthquake  to  wake  up  New 
York  city,  but  an  earthquake  will  do  it,  and 
when  that  huge  city  is  once  awake  her  enthu- 
siasm   is   sublime. 

General  Broon  was  riding  at  the  head  of  his 
brigade.  The  heavy,  measured  mutter  of  the 
drums,  mingUng  with  the  thump  of  the  five 
thousand  feet,  made  certainly  a  very  modest  call 
upon  the  attention  of  any  one,  so  he  thought. 
He  was  more  ready  to  halt  his  column  at 
obstructions  than  were  the  noisy  policemen  who 
preceded  him.  This  young  man  was  rather  grave 
than  gay  over  the  thought  of  appearing  at  the 
head  of  an  armed  force  in  a  city  of  merchants, 
where  so  recently  he  had  -walked  about  a  hum- 
ble citizen.  Then,  too,  Broon's  heart  was  heavy 
enough,  these  days,  at  best,  and  of  all  places 
here,  in  this  city  of  his  once  luxurious  and 
happy     home,     now     empty.      Indeed,     ihe     liglit- 


354  ^    WEDDING  IN   WAR-TIME, 

hearted  and  indulged  son  of  idleness  had  found 
a  '*  mission "  that  made  him  stern,  as  only  con- 
science   can    with    a    stern    task   in    hand. 

But  as  the  crowds  thickened,  and  the  cheers 
grew  more  frequent  and  more  loud,  as  one  and 
another  old  companion  shouted  out  his  name, 
Broon's  spirits  arose.  He  was  glad,  too,  for  the 
sign  it  was  that  the  metropolis  had  begun  to 
love  the  defenders  of  the  Union.  So,  when  at 
the  corner  of  that  great  thoroughfare,  the  most 
imposing  street,  take  it  all  in  all,  in  the  world, 
Broadway,  the  spectators  broke  into  the  then 
new   war    song : 

"Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  the  boys  are  marching," 

the  young  brigadier  could  not  resist  the  impulse; 
it  was  not  vanity,  but  patriotic  fervor.  He  gave 
the  order  to  the  bands.  The  martial  strains 
seemed  eager  to  respond  and  swell  the  wild 
delight.  The  two  regimental  bands  allowed  him 
were   massed   for   the   occasion. 

There  is  something  thrilling  in  it,  the  dear 
old  music  of  a  brass  band.  A  boy  may  grow  a 
man,  but  he  never  grows  insensible  to  that 
thrill.  The  musicians  gave  the  people  the  very 
music  that  they  had  been  roaring  and  singing, 
and    down    the    long    street,   block    by   block,   the 


WHAT  THE  SEA  DID  TO   THE  SOLDIER, 


355 


populace  responded  in  turn.  It  was  a  good  day. 
It  did  Mark  Broon  good.  I  am  glad ;  for,  poor 
fellow,  he  needed  it.  It  was  the  little  of  the 
pageant  and  the  pomp  of  war  that  was  likely 
to  be  vouchsafed  to  him.  It  was  not  grand, 
not  prolonged ;  in  a  half  hour  it  was  all  over, 
and  Broon  had  had  his  Broadway  day,  as  a  few 
hundred  other  Americans  have  had,  and  will 
have. 

A  flush  was  yet  on  his  handsome  face,  as 
he  now  dismounted,  stood  on  the  paddle-box  of 
that  old  side-wheeler,  the  Portland,  and  watched 
the  embarkation  of  his  men  in  three  steamers. 
He  stood  there  long,  faithfully  supervising  all 
details,  when,  suddenly,  he  said  to  the  orderly 
at   his   side : 

"The  —  th  New  Hampshire!  That's  the  last. 
The  regiment  goes  in  this  steamer.  Now  go 
down  and  tell  Captain  Smiles,  of  Company  B, 
that  as  soon  as  his  men  have  broken  ranks  I 
want  to  see  him  in  my  cabin.  We  shall  be  off 
now    within    an    hour,"    and    he    left    his    post. 

As  the  little  armada,  three  steamers,  passed 
out  over  the  bar,  the  lights  of  Navesink  were 
fighting  with  the  yellow  twilight  of  the  Octobe: 
evening.  The  sea  was  calm  enough,  but  the 
eastern    oceanward    sky    was   what    the    sailors    cal. 


356  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

wet,  and  the  sodden  cloud-  bands  were  closely 
encroaching  upon  the  brilliant  blue  and  gold  of 
the  west.  However,  there  was  nothing  to  attract 
the  attention  of  a  lot  of  landsmen,  these  volun- 
teers, who,  having  eaten,  were  singing  and 
otherwise  enjoying  themselves  within  the  limits 
of  their  brief  time   before    "taps." 

General  Broon  was  sitting  in  his  cabin  by 
himself,  when,  with  rap  and  salute,  Captain 
Smiles  entered. 

*'Good  evening,  Captain,"  he  said,  rising  and 
offering  his  hand  and  a  chair.  "  It  has  n't  been 
my  good  fortune  to  meet  you  since  you  got 
your  commission,  though  I  knew  you  had  it. 
You  lost  something  in  rank,  I  'm  sorry  to  know, 
by  exchanging  for  active  service.  But  you  are 
satisfied  } " 

"Yes;  and  I  take  this  opportunity  to  very 
heartily  thank  you.  General  Broon,"  was  Captain 
Smiles*  reply,  hearty  indeed,  though  a  trifle  con- 
strained. 

"  Do  not  stand,  Captain,"  resumed  Broon.  "  I 
am  right  glad  to  have  your  company,  and  in 
this  room  we  can  afford  to  let  rank  go  for 
nothing.  We  are  in  for  a  gloomy  night  of  it, 
the  captain  of  the  steamer  tells  me.  You  have 
got  your  post  of  danger  in   the  line." 


WHA  7  THE  SEA  DID  TO  THE  SOLDIER. 


357 


"  Yes,"  seating  himself,  and  warming  into  ease 
under  the  cordial  hospitality  shown  him,  "I  told 
you  I  was  in  earnest  about  this  matter.  Do 
you  anticipate  that  we  shall  see  some  active 
service  at  once?  Or,  pardon  me,  —  I  have  no 
right   to   ask  our  destination,    even." 

"  You  happen  to  know,  though,*'  said  Broon, 
laughing.  "Your  late  office  was  in  possession 
of  state  secrets.  By  the  way.  Cap,  I  tried  hard 
to  get  you  a  major's  commission.  The  very  first 
vacancy  —  ** 

"I  beg  you  will  not  think  of  it.  General 
Broon.  I  do  assure  you  I  —  if  you  will  not 
think  me  a  fool  —  I  want  to  be  with  the  men." 

"And  so  would  I  have  preferred  it,"  was  the 
frank  rejoinder.  •*  I  say,  Smiles,  I  owe  you,  for 
misjudging  you,   an  —  " 

"Again  I  must  interrupt  you,  General.  I  am 
not  all  patriotism,  though  I  confess  the  war  has 
changed  me   mightily.     But  I  'm  sick  of  life." 

"May  I  say  that  it  would  be,  in  my  judg- 
ment, wicked  for  you  to  expose  yourself  for  that 
reason } " 

"Wicked.?    What   is  that.?" 

Mark  Broon  was  not  quite  prepared  for  that. 
After  a  moment's  silence  to  frame  his  answer 
he  replied : 


358  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"Well,   life  is   the   gift   of  God." 

"  God  ?  Really,  General  Broon,  you  must  par- 
don me ;  but  I  'm  a  frank  fellow.  I  have  no 
idea  that  God,  wherever  may  be  the  one  which 
you  so  denominate,  has  the  slightest  interest 
in   me." 

**  Smiles,  see  here,"  exclaimed  Mark  Broon, 
rising  to  his  feet,  and  steadying  himself  by  lean- 
ing mostly  on  the  table,  but  placing,  also,  one 
hand  on  the  shoulder-strap  of  his  visitor,  "  it  *s 
getting  a  trifle  rough,  is  n't  it }  Smiles,  I  say 
I  knew  in  college  the  set  of  fellows  you  went 
with  were  atheistical.  I  have  known  something 
of  your  peculiar  rearing,  forgive  the  reference. 
But  I  have  an  idea  that  you  are  too  good  a 
fellow  to  long  be  satisfied  with  the  gloomy 
views  of  things  that  now  enshroud  you.  Will 
you  let  me  tell  you  what  I  believe,  and  not 
think   me   preaching   at   you } " 

The  speaker's  manner  was  so  sincere,  so  deli- 
cate his  proffer  of  sympathy  and  help,  the 
night  was  so  unutterably  black  in  poor  Smiles' 
soul,  that  for  an  instant  he  wavered.  Had  it 
been  any  other  man  under  heaven  but  Laura 
Lane 's  husband !  For  a  moment  he  made  no 
reply.     Then,    glancing  up : 

"One    mistake    you  make,   General.      I   am  not 


t^JiAT  THE  SEA  DID  TO   THE  SOLDIER, 


359 


ignorant.  My  rearing,  of  which  you  speak,  was 
by   saintly   hands   on   one   side." 

"And  I,"  responded  Broon,  quick  to  under- 
stand and  to  feel,  "I  have  but  th#  faintest 
recollection   of  mine." 

"Mother?" 

"Mother.  I  hope  you  found  her  well.  I  told 
your  colonel  you  must  have  all  the  furlough  you 
wanted. 

"Yes,  thax^k  you.  I  can  feel  her  kisses  yet. 
I  say,  Broon,  she  is  angelic,  my  mother.  She 
believes.  She  is  the  sheet-anchor  of  our  home. 
I've  not  a  shadow  of  doubt  that  that  woman 
is  —  is  on  her  knees  before  her  God  for  us  this 
very  moment." 

The  young  fellow's  speech  was  choked  in  his 
throat   for  a  little. 

"  No  doubt  of  it !  No  doubt  of  it ! "  fervently 
exclaimed  Broon.  "And  my  father's  prayers 
and  —  many   others." 

That  last  reference  was  an  unfortunate  one, 
though  it  came  near  being  worse ;  that  is,  if 
Broon  really  was  desirous  of  doing  Smiles  good, 
and  he  was.  He  took  at  once  the  resolution 
that  he  had  not  intended  to  have  attempted  till 
the  voyage  had  made  them  more  familiar.  Shak- 
ing the  shoulder  on  which  his  hand  yet  rested, 
be  said: 


360  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

"By-the-way,  Captain,  there  is  a  splendid  young 
creature  in  that  distant  ship's  saloon  with  my 
dear  wife,  who,  may  be,  prays  for  you.  How  do 
you   know  ? " 

"Miss  Hardy?"  was  the  matter-of-fact  reply. 
"Yes,  she  is  a  noble  girl.  But  what  interest 
can   she   have   in   mtV* 

"  Well,  I  do  n't  say  that  she  has  any.  But 
let 's  talk  about  it  now,"  seating  himself.  "  Before 
we  get  to  land  it  may  be  you  '11  suffer  a  kind 
word  on  the  subject  of  faith,  which,  I  see,  you 
are  not  inclined  to  now.  Smiles,  a  down-right 
Christian  woman,  a  strong,  true-hearted  woman,  a 
good  wife  is  what  you  want.  And,  if  I  do  n't 
mistake  the  little  signs  that  I  have  seen,  and  if 
Laura  does  not  write  me  wrong,  Madge  Hardy 
has   changed   her  opinion   of  you  lately." 

"Enough,  perhaps,  to  wish  that  I  was  a  bet- 
ter man.  But  the  idea  of  her  looking  kindly  on 
such  a  desperate  life  as  mine!  Why,  I'm  the 
embodiment  of  despair.  Link  Hope  with  De- 
spair ? " 

"She   would   teach   you  hope." 

Smiles  shook  his  head ;  and  yet  a  softer  as- 
pect spread  gradually  over  his  features.  He 
had  many  times  recalled  the  apparition  of  beauty 
that    threw    him    a    farewell    from    the    deck    of 


WHAT  THE  SEA  DID  TO  THE  SOLDIER,  361 


Captain  Broon's  departing  steamer.  He  felt  cer- 
tain that  no  one  could  have  known  of  that  ex 
cept   the   gracious   lady   and   himself. 

"She  would  teach  you  faith  also,  Captain,"  re- 
sumed Broon,  in  spite  of  his  resolution  drifting 
again  into  that  theme.  **Why,  Smiles,  I  can 
see  that  old  steamer  now,  —  let's  see,"  pulling 
out  his  watch  and  going  through  a  mental  cal- 
culation, "  she  left  Queenstown  five  days  ago ; 
it  must  be  after  nightfall  with  them,  as  with 
us ;  the  ladies  are  in  the  saloon,  I  imagine.  I 
can  see  them  silent,  thoughtful,  praying  for  us." 

"  They  must  be  very  nearly  in  the  track  of 
this   easterly  storm    that   is   pricking   on." 

"I  had  thought  of  that.  God  keep  them!" 
was  Mark's  reply.  "  I  do  n't  believe  we  are  five 
hundred  miles  apart,"  stepping  to  the  window 
and  peering  out,  "over  this  same  wild  sea 
Step  here,  Captain.  I  declare,  it  is  getting  t^ 
be   what   father  would   call  a   nasty   night." 

"I  knew  it,  General.  You  have  been  so  at 
sorbed  in  my  poor  affairs  that  you  have  n't  ne 
ticed  how  she  has  been  pitching.  Do  n't  yot 
think  I'd  better  go  out  and  look  after  mj 
men.?" 

"Yes,  probably  you  had.  Stay.  I'll  go  out 
with  you.     I   want   to   see  your  colonel" 


:e,->  A    WEDDING  IN   WAR-TIME, 


Together  the  two  officers  stumbled  out  from 
the  narrow  little  door.  Immediately  adjacent  to 
the  "  headquarters "  cabin  the  decks  were  unen- 
cumbered. But  within  twenty  feet  Broon  and 
Smiles  encountered  such  obstacles  to  walking  as 
made  their   advance   very   difficult. 

Everywhere  the  prostrate  forms  of  the  men. 
Pillowed  upon  knapsacks,  covered  with  rubber 
blankets  or  stretched  on  them,  and  protected  by 
woolens,  the  troops  were  coiled  up  in  what 
scant   comfort   they   could   get. 

•*This  rain  is  terrible  upon  overheated  men 
who  have  broiled  under  their  loads  in  Broadway 
at  noon!"  exclaimed  the  commanding  officer. 
''  Where   is   your   company,    Smiles  > " 

"Below,  sir.  But  it  is  worse  down  there  than 
here.  They  are  all  landsmen  and  utterly  dis- 
comforted by  the  sea.  I  think  you  had  best 
spare   yourself   that,    General." 

"  No,    I'll   go   the   rounds   with   you.'* 

Broon  insisted,  and  they  spent  an  hour  or  two, 
together  with  the  other  officers,  making  what 
arrangements  were  possible  against  the  annoyances 
of   the   rough   night. 

It  was  midnight  when  General  Broon  got 
back  again  to  his  own  cabin.  He  had  placed 
every   available   square   foot   of    its    space    at    the 


PVffAT  THE  SEA  DID  TO  THE  SOLDIER,  363 

disposal  of  various  officers,  some  of  whom  were 
already   asleep,   on   the   floor,    in   the   berths. 

Mark  Broon  sat  down,  and  bracing  himself  in 
between  table  and  sofa,  began  to  read  his 
Bible,  as  was  his  life-long  custom  at  his  night's 
devotions.  He  had  lingered  rather  longer  than 
usual  over  the  fond  pages,  with  a  sense  of  com- 
fort in  the  night's  confusion,  when  a  rap  at  the 
door   announced  the  captain  of   the  steamer. 

"  You  wished  me  to  report  about  the  weather 
and  the  like.  General.  It  is  blowing  a  gale  of 
wind,  sir,  and,  in  my  judgment,  is  only  just 
begun.  But  I  think  everything  is  all  right.  We 
are   'bout   off   Barnegat,  sir." 

"Very  good.  Captain.  Keep  me  posted.  The 
exact  state  of  affairs,  you  know.  I  'm  a  sailor 's 
son,  and   was   born   at    sea." 

"Yes,  sir.  Know  your  old  father,  —  grand 
man      General } " 

Broon  saw  the  man 's  lips  move  in  whisper. 
He  got  on  his  feet,  therefore,  and  gave  the 
whisperer   his   ear   to   hear : 

**  We   can 't   stand  a  heavy   blow,   Mr.    Broon." 

*'  On  your  life,  Captain,"  was  the  calm,  yet 
impressive  reply,  "  breathe  that  to  no  one !  If 
necessary,  run  in  to  Fortress  Monroe  in  the 
morning.  We  can  rest  under  her  guns.  Good- 
night.    I  shall   be   prowling   round." 


3^4 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


For  a  time  thereafter  Broon  sat  in  silence, 
except  for  the  heavy  breathing  of  the  sleepers 
about  him  and  the  nameless  noises  of  the  sea. 
How  grand  these  noises  of  the  sea,  when  one 
sits  to  listen  in  a  solitary  cabin !  How  terrible 
the  dull  thud  of  blows  that  have  no  echo;  the 
hiss  and  then  the  treacherous  kiss  of  great 
waves ;  the  moan  and  wail  of  wandering  winds 
that  seem  to  say  a  thousand  things  to  you, 
saying,  indeed,  just  what  you  are  thinking, 
whether  hope  or  fear,  with  a  vast  reduplication 
in  their  utterance.  Unceasingly  the  ship  herself 
utters  little  cries  and  stifled  groanings,  which 
you  cannot  refuse  to  hear,  poor  thing,  though 
you  resolve  again  and  again  not  to  heed  them. 
Of  all  the  noises  of  the  sea  nothing  is  so  piti- 
able as  the  ceaseless  lament  of  the  vessel  in 
whose  arms  you  ride.  You  listen,  too,  for  the 
throb  of  her  machinery,  and  it  becomes  like  the 
beating  of  your  own  anxious  heart  You  are  in 
breathless  suspense  at  times,  lest,  having  lost  its 
pulse  in  the  deeps,  it  should  never  beat  again, 
this  iron  heart !  No,  thanks  to  God,  it  is  yet 
fluttering.  There  will  be  once  more  a  resurrec- 
tion. 

"One  is  so  helpless  here,  great  God!"  the 
young    general    was    saying,    though    none    heard 


WHAT  THE  SEA  DID  TO  THE  SOLDIER,  365 

but  the  One  addressed.  "And  yet  we  are  always 
helpless  but  for  thee.  And,  thou  Holy  One, 
grant  to  me  that  the  delight  of  the  sea,  the 
awful  relish  of  these  scenes,  a  pleasure  which  is 
an  inheritance,  may  not  soothe  me  into  any 
carelessness  of  dangers  that  threaten  these  un- 
der my  charge.  Keep  ever  before  me  my  grave 
responsibility.  My  God,  to  think  of  it !  These 
thousands  of  brave,  true  hearts  in  these  vessels. 
Preserve  us.  I  trust  in  thee.  We  have,  we  will, 
do  all  we  can.  But  thou  art  our  only  defender. 
And  now.  Lord,  my  precious  wife,  whom  duty 
has  kept  from  my  heart's  embrace  since  the 
hour  we  were  wed,  keep  her,  O  Lord,  as  she 
prays  thee  to  keep  me.  Stretch  thine  arms 
over  this  fretted  little  league  of  waters  that  in- 
tervenes between  that  ship  and  this.  How 
precious  it  is  to  think  that  she,  they,  and  I, 
may  be,  this  very  moment,  are  calking  into  the 
one  same  loving  ear.  And,  Master,  Lord,  give 
to  this  young  Captain  Smiles  a  peace  and  hal- 
lowed  calm   in   faith  —  " 

A   sharp   rap   at   the   door. 

"  Come   in.'* 

An  officer,  in  dripping  garments,  clutching 
sword-hilt  and  overcoat  in  one  hand,  while  with 
the  other  he   tried   in   vain    to    give   a   salute,   so 


366  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

tumbled    the    ship   and    so    snatched   the   wind   at 
his   hat.     It   was   the   officer   of   the   guard. 

*  I  report,  General,  that  we  have  lost  the 
lights   of   the   Iroquois.'' 

"And    the    Storm   King?" 

"She  is  just  off  our  quarter  yet,  but  the 
night  is  very  thick,  and  we  often  think  we  have 
got   out   of   her   sight,    too." 

"Very  well,  Lieutenant,"  was  Broon's  reply 
"  It  is  about  all  each  ship  can  do,  I  suppose, 
to  take  care  of  itself.  Yet  tell  the  sailing  mas- 
ter  we   must   slow   up,   if  possible." 

"  He  has  done  so,  sir,  and  it  puts  this  steamer 
in   great   peril,"   was   the    response. 

"  Very  well,  again.  Tell  the  captain  I  '11  be 
with  him  directly,"  and  Broon  reached  for  his 
overcoat   as   the   door   closed. 

Stepping  on  deck,  the  colonel  commanding 
stood  before  him,  shouting  above  the  roar  of 
the   winds  : 

"The  -ship's  officers  have  ordered  these  men 
below.    General." 

"  Exactly,   Colonel.     We  are  top-heavy." 

"But,  God  help  us.  General  Broon,  they  are 
packed   like   sardines   down   there   now." 

"  Give  me  your  lantern,"  was  the  reply, 
"  Now,  then,  men,  follow  me  down  the  stairs ! " 


WHAT  THE  SEA  DID  TO  THE  SOLDIER,   367 


The  soldiers  could  with  difficulty  stand,  but 
they  began  to  crawl,  roll,  creep  on  all  fours, 
pitch,  and  tumble  after  Broon.  Thanks  to  his 
sea  legs  from  boyhood,  he  managed  to  stand, 
hold  aloft  the  lantern,  and  slowly  descend  the 
stairs.  The  colonel  was  doing  his  best  to  "keep 
alongside." 

**  A  thousand  men  in  the  place  that  five  hun- 
dred  could   scarce   breathe   decently   in ! " 

"  Give   us   a   breath  !  " 

"Hurrah  for   the    Union!" 

"Tramp,    tramp,    tramp,    etc." 

And  shouted  names  of  comrades  missed  in  the 
confusion,  and  bitter  laughter,  and  oaths  and 
curses,  and  hymns  and  prayers,  and  groans  and 
yells  without  a  meaning,  and  a  sense  of  sullen 
silence  mixed  with  fear;  silence  mixed  with 
desperation,  which  was  more  impressive  than  the 
sounds.  The  useless  officers  brushed  aside;  the 
useful  few,  by  scream  and  bellow,  vainly  strug- 
gling with  this  chaos  which  death  alone  could 
hush  to  order.  And  death  seemed  thundering  at 
the   door. 

"  Oh,  Smiles,  that  you .?  Have  been  watching 
you  as  well  as  I  could  any  one  in  this  gloom," 
was  Broon's  cheery  salutation,  as  the  captain  of 
Company   B   came   within   reach. 


368 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


"  A  troubled  scene,  General,"  was  the  dry 
response. 

The  speaker's  face  was  more  restful  than 
Broon  had  ever  before  seen  it ;  it  wore  almost 
a   smile   of   grim  humor. 

**  Something  to  do  is  doing  you  good,  my 
friend.     What !   hurt   your   hand  ?    And   blood  1 " 

**A  fellow  caught  his  bayonet  in  my  sleeve, 
that 's  all.  What  a  blunder  to  let  a  man  go 
loose  in  such  a  mess  as  this,  clinging  to  his 
musket ! " 

"  True.  It  should  have  been  his  own  captain 
who   got   hurt." 

Then  the  howl  of  winds  and  other  noises  of 
the  sea  came  in  to  make  all  conversation  im- 
possible. But  the  general  kept  Captain  Smiles 
at  his  side  for  the  long  hours  of  the  dreary 
night.  The  task  was  to  do  what  one  could  to 
keep  order  and  to  endure.  Broon  had  not  a 
half-dozen  officers  who  could  hold  their  heads 
up,    he   and   Smiles   were   everywhere. 

There  is  nothing  heroic  in  such  duties.  It  is 
that  other  virtue,  hardihood,  less  poetic  but  more 
valuable  than  courage.  The  duty  is  to  endure, 
not  to  do.  Many  suffer,  few  endure.  Ask  me 
for  a  predicate  to  misery.  I  answer,  a  stormy 
night     in    a    dangerous     sea.      Time     often     goes 


tVHAT  THE  SEA  DID  TO  THE  SOLDIER,   369 

. V 

slowly  on  land,  when  we  are  trying  to  endure. 
In    mid-ocean   time   comes   to   a  full  halt. 

Would  the  morning  never  come.^  Why  the 
morning?  Because  it  might  possibly  reveal  the 
smoke,  if  no  more,  of  the  other  two  steamers. 
Their   lights   have   been   long  invisible. 

At  length  the  lazy  morning  came,  breathing 
in   from   the   east   in  hazy   half-light   and   gray. 

"  Can   you   see   her  ?     Either   of  them  ?  " 

Broon  stood  in  the  wheel-house  with  a  handful 
of  officers,  each  of  whom  had  been  trying  the 
glasses,  searching  the  mountainous  plane  for  a 
sight   of  their  two   consorts. 

No   man   had   the   heart   to   reply. 

'*  What  does  the  man  you  sent  aloft  say  ? " 
to   the  steamer's   captain. 

Only  a  shake   of  the   head   in   reply. 

What  a  vision  of  cloud-land !  The  heavens  and 
earth  had  no  steadfast  line  of  separation  for  one 
moment.  The  next  moment  the  sky  rose  up 
from  the  sea,  parting  with  a  roar;  the  sky 
opened  into  great  rents  and  altitudes  of  silver- 
gray,  through  which  seams  the  torrents  fel.^ 
afresh  like  a  deluge.  After  the  torrents,  then 
vast  fields  of  mist,  translucent,  almost  sun- 
touched  from  above,  then  instantly  opaque  and 
seemingly    as     hard     as      bluffs     of     blue     stone. 


370 


A    WEDDING   IN  WAR-TIME. 


Army  on  army  of  mists !  Charge  on  charge  of 
the  stinging,  blinding  ranks !  The  eye  could  not 
help  following  these  chasers  of  clouds ;  twining 
wreaths  of  vapor  that  were  swung  like  the  skip* 
ping-ropes  of  children,  through  which  the  lum- 
bering  billows   gambolled. 

The  poor  side-wheeler,  flat-bottomed  for  river 
use,  rolled  till  the  sea  gushed  from  her  paddle- 
boxes  and  clogged  her  woefully.  She  stood  on 
end,  strangely,  in  spite  of  all  efforts  at  ballast- 
ing. 

"My   God!    There's  a  wreck!" 

Broon  snatched  the  speaker's  glass.  After  a 
moment 's  deliberate  study  he  replied,  his  face 
white   enough,    but   his   tone   calm : 

"Yes;  the  Storm  King's  survivors.  Captain, 
we  must  near  ship  —  I  suppose  you  dare  not 
slow  down,  —  and  send  out  for  them.  That  *s 
probably  all  there  are,  —  not  over  a  dozen  men. 
Oh,  God,  what  a  tribute  to  the  sea  she  made 
last   night!" 

"  I   want   to  go,   General.     Remember  I  " 

It  was   Captain   Smiles. 

"I  haven't  the  heart  to  order  a  sailor,"  said 
the   master   of  the   ship. 

"  Go,  old  stroke-oar ! "  fairly  yelled  Broon,  as 
he   grasped    Smiles'     hand.     "  You   can   find  some 


WHAT  THE  SEA  DID  TO  THE  SOLDIER. 


371 


Other  college  men  down  below  there,  who  '11 
gladly  volunteer." 

And  he  did  find  members  of  certain  university 
crews  who  volunteered,  though  it  was  so  rough 
a  job  to  launch  a  boat  that  the  steamer's  cap- 
tain drew  revolver  to  compel  his  deck  hands  to 
do   so   much  as   that. 

"  Gentlemen,  that 's  well  done !  And  that ! 
God  help  them !  If  mortal  men  can  do  it, 
those   men   will !  " 

General  Broon  was  watching  the  brave  boat, 
and  his  hands  worked  on  the  window-ledge  as  if 
he  were  tugging  at  the  oar.  What  a  pitiful 
sight  it  is,  a  small  boat  upon  the  great  curve  of 
an  ocean  billow,  toiling  upward,  shot  downward, 
on  gUstening  crest,  in  caverns  of  green,  seen, 
lost,  found,   and   gone  again. 

"Mate,"  Broon  cried,  "tell  the  man  at  the 
masthead  to  hold  aloft  his  hand  as  long  as  he 
can  see  them.  It's  no  use  his  shouting  to  us. 
Up  hand!" 

And  a  boy  was  sent  up  the  ratlins  to  convey 
the  word. 

"Heaven  forbid  these  mists,"  Broon  muttered 
to  the  man  at  the  wheel.  "Every  now  and  then 
that  fellow  at   the   masthead  is   half  invisible." 

"Yes,   General.     It  was  a    risky  thing  sending 


372 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


off  a  boatload   in   such    thick   weather  as    this  is 
liable  to   be   at   any   moment." 

Such  was  the   mate's   opinion. 

"But,  man,"  was  Broon's  answer,  "Smiles  vol 
unteered.  And  we  could — can,  see.^ — we,  too, 
can   see   the   wreck." 

"Yes,  sir,  by  glimpses.  But  it's  likely  to  shut 
down  like  a  curtain  to  your  bunk  any  minute. 
Pardon   me." 

And  the  sailor  took  a  fresh  quid  for  his  cheek 
and  tugged  away  at  the  booming  whistle. 

The  mournful  notes  of  that  whistle,  at  sea, 
where  there  is  no  echo,  and  the  tone  falls  dead- 
like on  the  air,  yet  ever  groaning,  sighing, 
groaning,  like  the  protest  of  a  living  creature  in 
the  face  of  the   overmastering   elements. 

"God  forgive  me,  if  I  did  wrong!"  fairly 
groaned   Mark   Broon. 

Was  it  all  mist  that  wet  his  manly  cheeks? 
Surely  not  all  mist  of  the  sea  in  his  fine 
eyes. 

"But,  I  say,  gentlemen,"  addressing  the  other 
officers  about  him,  "if  you  or  I  were  clinging 
to  yonder  wreck,  we  would  be  glad  to  have  a 
few  brave  fellows   try  to   reach   us.?" 

"Certainly,  General,  certainly,"  replied  all  the 
military  officers. 


WHAT  THE  SEA  DID  TO  THE  SOLDIER,  373 

Silence   all  the  ship's   officers. 

"What  do  you  say,  Captain?'*  insisting  on 
some  sort  of  reply  from  the  master,  who  had 
just   tumbled   through  the  door. 

"That  we  must,"  ringing  the  engineer's  bell 
sharply,  "steam  on,  or  go  down  ourselves,  sir. 
Put   her  head   round !  " 

The  eager  helmsman  let  go  that  wheel  in- 
stantly.    How   it   flew! 

General  Broon  gave  one  sharp,  challenging 
glance  at  sound  of  the  orders  which  abandoned 
that  boat-load  of  rescuers  to  their  fate.  Iron- 
nerved  as  he  was,  he  yet  staggered  for  an  in- 
stant, and  sky,  ship,  sea  began  to  grow  invisible 
Anger  and  remorse  smote  him.  He  felt  like  a 
murderer.  With  a  spring  like  a  tiger,  he  grasped 
the  master  by  the  throat,  and   shouted : 

"  I  '11  put  you  in  irons !  I  said  luff  up  for 
those  perishing  wretches  ? " 

The  grizzled  sailor  said  not  a  word,  but 
accustomed  to  authority,  smote  his  fists  and 
wrists  together,  ready  for  the  handcuffs.  Then 
suddenly  he  turned  his  face  to  the  sea.  Every 
one  understood  the  gesture  of  the  stiff  old 
neck;   every   eye   obeyed   the   motion. 

And  there,  across  the  changeful  wilderness,  a 
transformation  I     The    waves    were    bowing    down. 


374 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


A  mile  away  the  sea  seemed  level  as  a  plain. 
The  wreck  was  plainly  \isible,  resting  in  mo- 
mentary peace.  The  long  boat  was  visible,  but 
the  rowers  sat  powerless.  Broon,  at  least,  knew 
what   it   was.     The   wind! 

Behind  the  dim,  fe  wreck,  a  bank  of  black- 
ness, a  besom  of  power,  a  sweeping  destruction. 
It  reached  to  the  darkening  of  the  noon  zenith 
light  already.  Already  long  streamers,  ropes, 
and  rags  of  this  black  mist  swept  through  the 
upper  sky.  A  shroud  shut  out  the  man  at  the 
masthead,  and  when  they  saw  him  again,  for 
an  instant,  his  long-sustained  right  hand,  signal 
of  hope,  had  dropped,  and  he  was  descending 
unordered. 

The  mighty  roar  that  now  broke  on  them 
would  have  made  his  words  inaudible.  But  Mark 
Broon  wrung  the  hand  of  the  old  skipper,  with 
infinite  apology,  and  threw  himself  back  on  the 
seat  to  await  the  shock  that  was  to  strike 
them. 

It  is  impossible  to  write  about  the  next  six 
hours.  Indeed,  it  is  generally  impossible  for  the 
victims  of  such  hours  to  realize,  much  less  nar- 
rate them.  A  merciful  lethargy  deadens  all 
consciousness,  in  most  people.  They  do  not 
know,   they   do  not   wish   to    know,   what    is    hap- 


IV HAT  THE  SEA  DID  TO  THE  SOLDIER,   375 

pening.  All  the  day  that  followed  was  indescrib- 
able. Yet  Broon,  sailor-born,  and  the  ship's 
officers  knew  all,  felt  all,  struggled  and  planned 
all. 

The  night  was  again  shutting  down,  when 
Mark  Broon,  with  little  hope,  yet  worn  out  — 
for  three  nights  now  he  had  been  sleepless, — 
sought  his  cabin  to  throw  himself  down  for  an 
hour.  I  ask  the  reader  to  believe  it.  I  am  not 
accumulating  horrors.  The  regimented  surgeon 
was   there   awaiting   him,    and   saying: 

"  General  Broon,  we  have  cholera  on   board! " 

The  two  men  stared  at  each  other  in  silence. 
But  nothing  is  so  calm  as  despair.  Broon  has 
often  said  since  that,  after  a  moment,  this  new 
terror  seemed'  to  add  not  a  feather's  weight  to 
his   load.     He   simply  felt   curious   to   ask  : 

"Are  you   sure?*' 

"Have   been   sure   since  noon." 

"  Can   you   quarantine  them  ?  " 

"No." 

Broon  has  since  told  me  that  the  professional 
coolness  of  the  physician  in  the  presence  of  this 
Death  was  the  same  as  on  the  land ;  the  sur- 
geon, utterly  fatigued,  lighted  a  cigar.  But 
when,  a  few  moments  later,  the  steamer's  cap- 
tain  staggered   in   with,    "General,   we   have    bent 


376  ^    IVEDDIJVG  IN  IVAR'TIME, 

a  piston  rod — must  shut  off!"  the  surgeon 
sprang   up   and   yelled : 

*'What   then?" 

"Then,  sir,"  Broon  replied,  bracing  his  chair, 
"we   must   drift   till   help   comes,    or  perish!" 

And  while  he  dropped  his  own  head  in  prayer, 
the  surgeon,  frantic,  snatched  a  life-preserver  and 
fled,  afraid   of   this    Death. 

"Every  man  to  his  calling,"  Brr^n  remarked, 
and,  clinging  hard  to  his  chair,  hf  resumed  his 
silent   call   on   tht   God   of  the  sea 

Did  the   God   cf  fbe  s«»   hear? 


AND  WHAT  THE  GOD  OF  THE  SEA. 


177 


XVII. 

AND   WHAT  THE  GOD   OF   THE   SEA. 

T~^ID   the   God   of  the   sea   hear? 

I  tell  you  a  plain  tale  of  the  answer  to 
prayer,  every  fact  of  which  I  can  verify.  Read 
it,  believing.  God  does  answer  prayer.  But  his 
ways   are  not   our  ways. 

"Fannin'  along,  fannin'  along,  my  dears,"  was 
Captain  Charles  Broon  's  salutation  to  Madge 
Hardy  and  Laura  Broon,  as  they  emerged,  arm 
in  arm,  from  the  companion-way  of  the  Atlantic 
to  greet  him.  He  was  walking  the  deck,  which 
was  yet  encumbered  with  coils  of  hose,  and  wet 
with  the  early  morning  flushing.  "Up  to  greet 
the  clear  weather,  are  ye.?'*  and  he  bent  both 
arms  of  his  pea-jacket  to  take  theirs.  "Got 
rubbers } " 

He  himself  wore  jack-boots,  and  looked  almost 
as  rough  as  the  elements  he  had  been  combat- 
ting for  the   last   three   days   and   nights. 

"Didn't  expect  company  so  early,  and  am 
not  dressed,  you   see." 


378  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


They  both  kissed  the  old  salt  for  good-morn- 
ing, and  Laura  answered,  as  she  tucked  herself 
up   to   him : 

"  I  should  think  the  fanning  was  over.  Oh, 
isn't   it   a   beautiful  morning?" 

"And  what  brilliant  sunlight  and  sky,  except 
off  there  towards  dear  America,"  added  Madge 
Hardy. 

"Yes,  my  dears.  That's  the  storm  that  has 
blown  by  us.  Rough  along  the  Yankee  coast 
yet,"    said   the   captain. 

"How  far  are  we  from  Sandy  Hook?"  asked 
Laura. 

"We'll  see  Fire  Island  Light  afore  daybreak 
to-morrow.  And  what  a  handsome,  hearty  woman 
I'm  takin'  back  to  her  mother,"  turning  affec- 
tionate eyes  on  her.  "Feel's  well's  ever  in  your 
life,   don't  you,   my   dear  girl?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  with  a  little  skip  and  a  step 
as   elastic  as  fair  youth   ever  knew. 

Then  suddenly  the  young  wife  slowed  her  tread, 
and  Mark 's  father  saw  and  understood  the  shade 
that   came   over  her  bright  features. 

"I  know,  I  know,"  remarked  the  captain. 
"  I  've  been  thinkin'  all  the  morning,  too  ;  ye-a-s." 

"It  isn't  quite  as  joyous  a  return  home  as 
we    could    wish,"    added     Madge     Hardy,    with    a 


AND  WHAT  THE  GOD  OF  THE  SEA,        379 

meaning  that  Laura  understood,  but  the  old  gen- 
tleman never  dreamed  it  to  be  other  than 
sympathy   with   her   friend. 

They  walked  and  talked  till  the  bells  struck 
the  breakfast  hour.  They  had  the  deck  mostly 
to  themselves,  and  spoke  lovingly  and  long  of 
Mark  Broon,  but  never  a  word  of  Erastus 
Smiles.  The  young  ladies  tried  the  mention  of 
that  name  once  in  Captain's  Broon's  presence, 
after  these  two  pure  hearts  had  shared  each 
other's  secret,  and  Laura  had  been  very  gen- 
erous for  her  cousin's  sake.  But  the  captain 
had   exclaimed : 

"  Smiles }  Smiles  ?  Ye-a-s.  A  bad  lot  that.  I 
never  want  to  ship  any  of  'em  when  I  once 
get   through   with   the  father." 

It   was   never  attempted   again. 

"Where  do  you  say  ^he  is  now?"  said  Laura 
to   her   father. 

"We've  each  been  tryin'  to  locate  Mark, 
mother,"  he  replied,  as  they  were  seated  at  the 
table. 

"In  dear  old  Washington,  I  hope,"  was  the 
elder  lady's    reply. 

"In  New  York,"  guessed  Madge,  with  a  pretty 
flash  of  hope  in  her  glance  at  the  mention  of 
the  city,   which   both   the   other   ladies  knew   how 


38o 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


to  interpret  in  connection  with  the  nameless 
man  stationed  there. 

He  at  least  was  in   New  York. 

After  they  had  all  guessed  around,  except  tht 
captain,  they  insisted  on  having  his  conjecture 
They  had  hardly  noticed  his  leiuctance,  but  nov 
it  was  manifest  in  many  an  attempt  to  chang* 
the  subject.  They  noticed,  too,  his  increasin£ 
reticence  and  abstraction,  and  wondered  at  it, 
for  the  storm  was  over,  and  his  iron  face  should 
have  softened  now  its  hard  wrinkles  of  man) 
hours.  When  at  length  they  were  bound  tc 
have  his  reply,  he  turned  on  them,  and  got  up 
to  go,   as  he  answered : 

"I   fear  at   sea." 

It  took  the  ladies  some  time  to  shake  this 
off,  fanning  along,  fanning  along.  The  three 
ladies  went  on  deck,  and  mingled  with  the 
promenaders.  They  saw  the  captain  on  the 
bridge,  walking,  ever  walking,  but  he  kept,  sin- 
gularly, out  of  everybody's  way,  and  everybody 
remarked  it.  After  a  while  the  elder  Mrs.  Broon 
got  into  her  chair,  and  began  to  crochet,  but 
the  two  young  ladies  had  yet  too  much  excite- 
ment of  expectation  to  walk  off,  and  they  con- 
tinued the  old,  old  round.  Did  you  ever  take 
that  round,  reader,  turning  at  the  capstan,  or 
some  other  way-mark,   time  after  time? 


AND  WHAT  THE  GOD  OF  THE  SEA,        381 

Mrs.  Charles  Broon  's  sea-chair  was  located  by 
the  capstan,  and  as  the  two  girls  turned  and 
turned  about,  she  overheard  fragments  of  their 
conversation.  The  topic  was  already  familiar, 
however,  in  many  little  motherly  confidences 
which    Madge   had   sought. 

"I  do  try,  Madge,  for  your  sake,  to  think 
better  of — "   and   the   turn   was    made. 

"  Yes,  it  is  so  sweet  in  you ;  and  all  from 
love  of  me,  dear  Laura.  But  — "  and  the  girls 
being  turned  again,  the  winds  whisked  the  rest 
of  the   sentence   off  to   sea. 

"No,  I'll  not  say  I  love  him,  yet,"  said 
Madge. 

*'0h,  I  hope  not,  yet,  child.  But  you  do  want 
us  to  give   him  a   standing,   and   invite — " 

The   turn  was   made. 

"  Yes,  Madge   Hardy.     God  help   me  to  admire 

a    noble    character,    however    much    I    may    have 
»» 

" —  wish  myself  he  were  a  real  fighting  hero, 
and   Mark  told   you   the   man   himself  —  ** 

The  turn   again. 

"  Do  n  't  say  shed  blood,  you  naughty  girl. 
It   breaks   my   own  — " 

And  again  the  turning  promenaders  strode 
away. 


382  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

"  Poor  girl !  Poor,  precious,  glorious  girl ! " 
sighed  the  worker  with  the  crochet,  as  she 
turned  it  down  under  her  hands,  and  began  to 
think  too  intently  for  plying  the  threads.  "What 
a  strange  thing  is  a  woman's  heart !  What  will 
it  all  come  to  ?  What  will  the  ex-mayor  say  ? 
Love  him,  indeed!  Of  course  she  does.  She  is 
thinking  and  whispering  of  him,  in  her  modest 
way,  all  the  while.  And  praying  for  you,  too, 
young  man,  if  you  only  knew  it.  How  long-  she 
lingered  on  her  knees,  last  night,  at  her  silent 
prayers.  A  sweet,  good  girl.  She  ought  to  wed 
a   hero,   like   our   Mark." 

Then  she  observed  that  the  girls  had  seated 
themselves  with  a  company  watching  "  shuffle 
board,"  down  the  deck,  and  glancing  up,  she 
saw  her  husband  beckoning  to  her  from  the 
bridge.  She  went  towards  him,  and  the  old 
sailor  met  her  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  saying, 
gravely." 

•*  Wife,  I  can 't  get  the  thought  out  of  mind 
that  I  must   put   this   ship  on   the   other  tack." 

She  gave  him  a  surprised  smile,  and  an- 
swered : 

"Well,  Charles,  I — that  is — -if  you  want  to 
tack—" 

"My  dear,  you    never    heard    of    such  a  crazy 


AND  WHAT  THE  GOD  OF  THE  SEA,        383 

thing  as  my  puttin*  to  you  such  a  remark,  now, 
did  ye?  No,  nor  I  either.  Look  at  me.  Do  I 
seem  ill  ? " 

"111?" 

"  Yes  ;    pale-like   or  unnerved  r  " 

"Why,  papa,  is  anything  the  matter?"  she 
asked,   all   alarm. 

"No,  no.  Nothings  the  matter.  Only  for  five 
or  six  hours,  now,  every  few  minutes,  that 
vagrant  thought  has  been  a-hauntin'  your  old 
man :  *  Put  the  ship  on  the  other  tack !  Put  the 
ship  on  the   other  tack !  * " 

And  he  brought  his  arm  round  with  that 
emphatic  hook   movement   all   his   own. 

"Well,  Charles,  do  it,  then,"  she  replied,  at  a 
loss  what   else  to   say. 

"  Do  it,  woman  ?  You  can 't  understand  what 
it  means  to  put  the  ship  on  the  other  tack. 
Why,  it  would  just  send  us  straight  back,  as  it 
were,   towards   Liverpool." 

"Oh!" 

"  Yes ;  and  here  we  are  a-fannm*  along  straight 
on  to  the  Hook,  fust  rate.  What  a  crazy  idea 
to  possess   a   man ! " 

And  he  cast  his  eyes  round  on  the  sparkling 
sea  with   a  look   of  genuine   distress   of  mind. 

"You  are  tired  out,  Charles.     Can't  you  come 


384  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

down    and    sleep  a  while?    Three    such    days    as 
we  have  had ! " 

"I've  thought  of  that;  but  Tm  not  tired.  I 
eat,  I  feel  perfectly  strong  and  well,"  swinging 
the  circling  arm.  "  But  say  nothin*,  say  noth- 
in*,  wife.  I  wouldn't  have  a  mortal  know  the 
old  man  was  indulgin'  such  weaknesses.  It's  a 
mere  wanderin'  thought,  a  mere  vagary  of  the 
mind,"  and  thrusting  his  hands  into  his  pockets, 
he  went  back  up  the  stairs  to  his  place  on  the 
bridge. 

Of  course  there  was  no  need  of  his  being 
there.  It  was,  moreover,  the  hour  that  he  gen- 
erally devoted  to  social  intercourse  with  the 
passengers,  gallant  and  jocose  as  the  lightest- 
hearted  among  them,  in  fair  weather.  People 
remarked  his  absence,  and  would  have  called  to 
him  where  he  was,  but  that  there  was  some- 
thing in  his  sad,  stern  face  that  just  now  for- 
bade all  banter. 

'*  Fool,  did  I  say }  Did  I  call  myself  a 
fool } " 

He  was  apostrophizing  the  white  caps,  as  he 
leaned  against  the  rail  at  the   end  of  his  walk. 

"  Who  knows  that  I  'm  a  fool }  Never  sub- 
mitted to  superstitions  such  as  sailors  often 
cherish.  Not  I,  a  sound  Methodist,  and  a  stew- 
ard of  the  church  at  that ! " 


AND  IVHAT  THE  GOD  OF  THE  SEA. 


38s 


Then  he  resumed  the  old  round  again,  study- 
ing the  ship  and  seeking,  evidently,  to  interest 
himself   in    his   vessel. 

"Fine  run  to-day,  Mr.  Ketchum,"  exclaimed 
he,  squaring  off  to  the  second  officer,  who  was 
superfluously  present,  and  wondering  "  why  the 
old  man  kept  the  bridge  so  long  this  splendid 
weather.'* 

•'  I  put  her  down  for  seventeen  knots,  sir," 
was   Mr.    Ketchum' s   audible  reply. 

"  Hardly,  hardly ;  say  sixteen,  sixteen,  Mr. 
Ketchum." 

"  I  am  sure  it  will  exceed  that,  sir,"  the  offi- 
cer rejoined,  ready  to  enter  upon  argument,  def- 
erentially,   to   pass   the   time. 

But  the  captain  had  himself  already  cut  short 
the  conversation  he  had  begun,  and  had  resumed 
his  climbing,  up  hill  and  down  dale,  of  that 
ever-changing   promenade. 

"Something  troubles  the  old  man,"  mused 
Ketchum.  ''Not  like  him  to  be  abrupt,  or  seem 
to   lack  politeness." 

And  the  officer  preserved  his  silence  there- 
after, keeping  his  watch  that  had  no  authority 
so   long   as   the   master   was   there. 

"The  —  other  —  tackl"  Captain  Broon  was  mut- 
tering it  over  and  over.  "The  —  other  —  tacL 
Put  her  on  it." 


386  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

No  one  could  hear  him ;  he  stood,  solitary, 
apart,    and   said    it    to   the    sea. 

''  Superstitions  ?  No.  But  it  may  be  that  a 
kind  Providence  is  tryin'  to  save  me  from  some 
evil.  Now  I  believe  in  Providence,"  shaking  his 
head  and  smiting  the  rail  with  his  hand.  "It 
just  may  be,  now,  that  I'm  too  near  in  shore 
for  the  night.  Have  n't  had  an  observation  for 
some  time.  Shall  get  one  to-day,  though.  I'll 
have  it  soon  now.  But  the  water  looks  right 
color,"  leaning  out  and  dreamily  studying  the 
sea. 

His  attention  was  now  all  absorbed  in  watch- 
ing the  gray  and  darkling  clouds,  not  stormy, 
but  indolent  and  opaque  and  persistent,  which 
followed  after  the  storm  of  the  last  three  days, 
the  reaction  from  the  sky's  laughter  in  the  first 
clearing   off. 

"Shall  hardly  get  it,  Mr.  Pike,"  addressing 
the  navigator,  who  now  stood  ready  to  cheat 
nature  at  the  slightest  chance,  as  noon  ap- 
proached. 

"I  think  we  will,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "But 
really,  you  know,  Captain,  we  shall  not  die  if 
we   don't." 

For  the  man  could  not  understand  Captain 
Broon's  anxiety.     Indeed,  he  was   disposed,  almost, 


AND  WHAT  THE  GOD  OF  THE  SEA,        387 

to  explain  it  on  the  score  of  "the  old  man's 
being  so  long  ashore  that  he  's  nervous  about 
the  coast;"  and  there  had  been  a  smile  or  two 
exchanged  between  the  officers  at  the  foot  of 
the  ladder,  at  the  captain's  expense.  But  who 
dare  be  seen  to  hold  the  ship-master  in  light 
esteem,    no   matter   what   follies   he   exhibits? 

"Die,  my  friend?"  was  Captain  Broon's  quick 
response.  "May  be  not.  But  I  want  you  to 
get   the   sun,    sir,    if   it   is   a   possible   thing." 

"Of  course,  sir,"  was  the  very  deferential 
reply. 

But  after  long  and  careful  watching  the  ap- 
proximate hour  of  noon  slipped  by  and  more. 
The  aftermath  of  cloud  had  not  yielded.'  Noon 
bells  had  struck,  and  the  decks  had  emptied  for 
lunch. 

"You'll  have  to  prick  it  out  again,  I  see," 
was  Captain  Broon*s  comment  to  the  navigator; 
and    he    went    to    his    room   for   a    while. 

The  run  was  posted,  and  the  passengers  gath- 
ered  as  usual  to  settle  foolish  bets  and  conorat- 
ulate  each  other  on  being  so  much  nearer 
home.  But  Captain  Broon  was  not  with  them, 
jolly  and  agreeable,  to  receive  his  usual  share 
of   the   congratulations. 

The   great   event  of  a  sea  day  came  and  passed 


388  ^    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

but  the  old  captain  was  not  in  his  usual  place 
at  the  head  of  the  table.  Yet  no  man  ever 
loved  a  good  dinner  better  than  he. 

"In  his  room,"  was  the  frequent  wifely  ex' 
planation. 

"  Mother  dear,  is  he  now  really  ill  ? "  asked 
Laura. 

"No,  no,  child.  Broken  of  his  rest  so  much 
of  late  —  " 

"Asleep,   I   hope,"   said   Madge   Hardy. 

Yet  she  somehow, — and,  strangely,  she  used 
afterwards  to  relate, — felt  a  sympathy  of  unrest 
with  this  old  sea  hero.  Even  as  she  expressed 
the  hope  that  he  was  asleep,  she  was  certain 
that   he   was   broad   awake   and   troubled. 

The  afternoon  bells  struck  off  the  hours,  and 
the  usual  lazy  loitering  on  deck  went  on  this 
day  as   on   all   fair  days   at   sea. 

Captain  Broon  came  up  at  the  stroke  of  the 
hour,  and  marched  moodily,  avoiding  all,  to  Jiis 
old  beat  on  the  bridge.  Let  his  own  words  tell 
the  story  of  his  mental  state  at  this  hour  of 
that   eventful  afternoon : 

"Turn  which  way  I  would,  I  saw  that  order, 
*Put  the  ship  on  the  other  tack.*  It  was  writ 
out  on  the  foam  which  streaks  the  billows  like 
ropes   after   high  winds   are    gone.     It  took  shape 


AND  WHAT  THE  GOD  OF  THE  SEA.        389 

in  the  scuds  that  had  been  hastenin'  after  on 
the  grayish  sky.  The  wavy  line  where  sky  and 
water  met  spelled  out  the  same,  sir,  'Put  the 
ship  on   the  other  tack/ 

"  If  I  looked  up  sudden  to  the  sail,  — we  were 
carryin'  a  few  close-reefed  to  steady,  —  I  could 
ha'  sworn  I  saw  the  big  black  letters  there 
upon  the  canvas,  and  only  when  I  stared  point- 
blank  it  vanished.  Bein'  out'rd  bound,  we  burned 
dirt  coal,  of  course,  and  the  long  smoke,  waver- 
in*,  beckoned  on  that  other  tack.  I  even  thought 
I  saw  it  on  the  colors,  *  Fut  the  ship  on  the 
other  tack.'  Tis  a  wonder  I  did  not  go  mad> 
sir.     Indeed,    I   thought   I   was. 

"  I  went  below,  and  pricked  my  course  all  out 
for  myself,  thinkin'  a  kind  God  might  be  warn- 
in'  me  o'  danger  on  the  shallow  shores  off  Long 
Island,  say.  No.;  we  were  seventy  mile  from 
land. 

I  knew  how  unhappy  I  was  makin'  wife  and 
the  girls,  dear  hearts.  They  often  looked  up  at 
me,  or  came  alongside  and  offered  to  hail  me. 
But  I  couldn't  ha'  talked  with  'em  to  save  my 
life.  And  after  a  while  I  saw  *em  go  below, 
as  the  sun  went  down.  How  glad  I  was  to  be 
rid  o*  their  kind  eyes.  I  was  n't  particularly 
thinkin'  of  my  son.      But  I  might  ha'  known  they 


590 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


were  thinkin'  of  him,  and  prayin',  too.  You  see, 
my  wife  was  just  a  bit  of  a  sailor,  and  knew  that 
gale  o'  wind  had  gone  ahead  of  us.  And,"  here 
he  would  always  pause  in  his  narrative,  and  lay 
his  great  forefinger  impressively  upon  your  shoul- 
der, "I  had  upset  the  peace  o'  these  dear 
women,  without  thinkin',  by  my  remark  at  break- 
fast  about   my  boy's   bein*   on   the   sea." 

The   writer   has   heard   him   tell : 

"  As  the  night  fell  over  the  great  ship,  and 
the  decks  became  deserted,  I  dropped  into  the 
wake  o'  the  restless  passenger  you  '11  always  find 
on  a  vessel's  deck  after  dark,  walkin*  solitarv 
and  I  kept  up  a  round  behind  him.  My  distress 
of  mind  kept  prickin'  on  and  prickin*  on,  harder 
and  harder.  The  sky.?  You  never  see  the  sky 
ashore.  At  night  and  in  mid-Atlantic  is  the 
time  and  place  to  see  the  heavens.  And  'specially 
if  you  have  anything  on  your  heart  that  makes 
you  lift  it  to  the  unseen  God,  as  it  were,  for 
help.  Why,  that  night,  the  clouds  bein'  all 
gone,  the  stars  seemed  to  be  holdin'  me  in 
derision  for  my  disobedience.  The  next  moment 
them  same  sparks  of  fire  seemed  to  threaten 
me.  Then,  when  I  prayed,  all  the  heavens-full 
kind  o'  melted  into  gentle  looks,  and  their  eyes 
softened,  as   eyes   do   when  tears  just  begin  to  fill 


AND  WHAT  THE  GOD  OF  THE  SEA.        391 

•**Put    the    ship    on    the    other   tack.' 

"Well,  my  friend,  I  begun  to  be  afraid  under 
the  sky  there.  I  *m  not  goin*  to  deny  it.  Afraid 
of  God,  my  boy.  A  man  need  n't  hesitate  to 
confess  that.     He   seemed   to  be  lookin'   at  me. 

"  And  the  voices  of  the  sea  !  They  are  many 
and  noble  to  whomsoever  will  hear.  I  always 
enjoyed  'em,  and  many  a  time  have  closed  a  book 
I  was  readin'y  quietly,  to  listen  to  'em.  But 
now  all  the  sea's  noises  said  just  this  one  thing," 
and  he  would  swing  that  right  arm,  scythe-like, 
nod  his  great  head  to  the  right  shoulder,  im- 
pressing   the    dread    refrain : 

"  Put   the   ship   on   the   other  tack." 

"I  can  imagine,  Captain,  that  the  winds  said 
it,"   I   once   remarked. 

"Well,  no.  There  was  no  wind  after  the  dog- 
watch. But  there  is  when  you  hear  the  sighs 
of  the  riggin',  as  she  whips  over  the  crest. 
And  the  machinery  of  a  steamer  is  continually 
lamentin'  and  croakin'.  And  an  iron  ship,  my 
lad,  is  everlastingly  bemoanin'  herself;  ye-a-s, 
specially  in  an  easy  night,  when  she  ought  to 
be  happy.  All  these  noises  said  it.  Why,  the 
ship  seemed   actually   unwillin'   to   go   on  ! " 

"  It  must  have  been  about  ten  o'clock,  — 
though    I    was    by    that     time    in     such     absolute 


392 


A    WEDDING   IN  WAR-TIME. 


agony  that,  to  this  day,  I  have  never  been  able 
to  speak  very  positively  of  my  actions  about 
then, — that  I  just  stopped  stock-still,  anchored! 
I  was  on  the  bridge,  I  *m  sure.  I  called  to  the 
officer   in   charge,    a    Mr.    Lapham,    and   said  : 

"  *  Lapham,  put  her  on  the  other  tack,  and 
let  her  stand  on  till  midnight.  D  'ye  hear  ? 
Then   come   an*  wake   me.     I  *m  goin'  to  sleep.' 

"You  should  ha'  seen  the  man  stare  at  me. 
I  knew  he  thought  I  was  crazy.  But,  of  course, 
he'd  ha'  said  nothin*  if  I  had  commanded  him 
to   stop   engines   or   scuttle   ship,    you   know." 

"They  never   question    the   master  .!* "  I  asked. 

"  Never.  Then,  like  a  whipped  dog,  I  turned 
and  went  staggerin'  down  to  my  cabin,  and 
threw  myself  out  on  the  bed,  the  most  relieved 
man  you  ever  saw.  And  yet  my  steamer  was 
tackin'   like  a  brig." 

Captain  Broon  has  often  told  us  that  no  sooner 
had  he  stretched  himself  out  than  he.  was 
asleep.  The  whole  ship's  company  slept,  except 
a  few  nervous  people,  perhaps,  whom  the  rattling 
of  cordage  and  the  sudden  change  of  motion,  an 
unusual  thing  with  a  steamer,  sufficed  to  awaken 
The  night  went  on.  The  ship  went  on,  on  her 
backward   tack. 

Suddenly    Captain    Broon    awoke.     He    sat    up 


AND  WHAT  THE  GOD  OF  THE  SEA, 


393 


and  gazed  around  his  room.  It  was  still  lamp- 
light.  He  reached  for  his  watch  that  hung  on  a 
nail   near  his   head,   and   looked   at   the  time. 

It   was   two   o'clock   of  the   morning ! 

With  a  bound  the  old  man  sprung  to  his 
feet,  and  touched  the  signal  for  the  officer  of 
the   deck,  and   angrily   waited    his   coming. 

"Did  I  not  tell  you  to  call  me  at  midnight?" 
he  demanded,  not  even  addressing  the  officer  by 
name. 

"You   did,    sir,"   was  the   reply. 

"  Well,  then  — why, —  here   it  is   two  o'clock." 

"  I  came  in  at  twelve,  sir  ;  spoke  to  you.  You 
apparently  awoke.  You  sat  straight  up  in  your 
berth,  and  looked  me  full  in  the  face,  asking  the 
time." 

"What!" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  supposed  you  were  awake,  for  you 
then  added,  '  Let  her  stand  on  for  two  hours 
more,'  which  I  have  done." 

Without  a  word  of  further  reply  the  old  man 
passed  the  officer,  and  ran  on  deck.  The  officei 
followed  his  superior  in  wondering  silence. 

"  Put  this  ship  on  her  course  again ! "  roared 
Captain   Broon. 

The  orders  flew  from  man  to  man.  The  sails 
began    to    obey.     The    wheelmen    struggled    with 


394 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


the  high-running  seas.  The  great  ship  obeyed, 
slowly,  laboriously,  and  wonderingly  it  almost 
seemed,  as  she  turned  her  prow  once  more 
towards   the    west    and   the    home    port. 

"  I  remember,"  Captain  Broon  used  to  relate, 
*'  how  calm  my  mind  at  once  was.  All  the 
tempest  of  many  days  was  over.  I  only  felt 
indignantly  impatient  with  myself  for  having  lost 
so  much  time,  and  eager  to  get  on  our  course 
instantly.  I  was  standin'  on  the  bridge  as  she 
wore  round.  I  remember  just  how  she  put  her 
nose  up  on  that  fust  big  wave,  and  took  a  look, 
as  it  were,  off  towards  the  moon  just  a-top  the 
horizon  in  the  west.  I  was  about  to  turn  on 
my  heel  and  go  below,  when  there,  in  the 
sheen  of  the  moon-beams  across  the  tumbled 
sea,  I  beheld  the  broken  shape  of  a  pitiful 
wreck.  Had  I  been  a  quarter  of  a  mile  on 
either  side  of  the  straight  line  from  the  moon, 
I'd  ha'  missed  her  sure!  For  you  can't  see  a 
wreck,  hull  down,  in  the  night,  no  lights  a 
burnin'.  But  this  one  was  black,  like  spiders* 
webs,  across  the  yellow  of  the  settin'  morning 
moon. 

"It  thrilled  me  like  a  shock,  my  dear  sir. 
God  had  made  me  sleep  over.  God  had  navi- 
gated that  ship.  God  meant  to  use  me  to  save 
those  lives. 


AND  WHAT  THE  GOD  OF  THE  SEA, 


395 


"Quick  as  thought  I  resolved  what  I  would 
Jo.  I  bore  straight  down  on  the  wreck.  It 
vvas  n't  more  than  a  minute,  it  seems  to  me, 
before  every  soul  on  board  the  Atlantic  knew 
what  we  had  run  foul  of,  and  was  on  deck  to 
see   the   strange   sight. 

"  My  wife  and  the  two  girls  I  put  in  the 
doorway  of  a  house  I  had  on  deck,  right  where 
they  could  see  me  every  minute.  How  wild  and 
excited  those  women  looked  in  the  light  of  the 
lamps !  But  strange,  sir,  they  were  all  on  their 
knees. 

"  We  kept  bearin'  dowji  on  the  wretches,  of 
course,  and  what  a  silence  there  was,  'cept  as  I 
bawled  to  ihe  men  what  I  wanted  'em  to  do 
when  we  reached  her.  I  never  saw  waves  run 
higher.  My  fust  mate  vowed  we  could  never 
send  a  boat  alongside,  nor  transfer  passengers  if 
a  boat  had  *em.  But  I  knew  we  would.  I  just 
watched  my  time.  Then  I  luffed  up  and  slowed 
down,  keepin'  her  head  on,  not  more  than  two 
hundred  yards  away.  And  there  she  was.  God 
help  me  !  I  can  hear  the  shouts  of  the  wretches 
wailin'   through   the   darkness,    even   now. 

"What  an  age  it  seemed  to  take  to  get  that 
fust  boat-load  back.  And  when  she  came  I  just 
told    two     big     fellows     to     stand     by ;    then    we 


396  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

passed  a  line  fore  and  aft  of  the  boat.  When 
the  little  thing  fell  off,  she  seemed  more  than 
forty  feet  down.  Then,  when  she  rose,  we  just 
took  'em  aboard,  Irke  you  'd  toss  babies,  one  by 
one,   and   the   two   big   sailors   caught   'em. 

"  Not  a  word  was  spoken  on  board  my  ship, 
'cept  by  myself.  An  awe  and  a  'Thank  God,' 
was  over  us  all.  The  first  man  we  took  wore 
a  uniform.  In  the  dim  light  not  many  of  our 
people  noticed  what  the  rags  of  the  poor  fellow 
were,  but  I  noticed.  Then  I  knew,  just  as  well 
as  if  I  had  been  told  by  an  angel,  that  those 
were  my  son's  poor  people.  God  help  me!  I 
could  hardly  stand.  It  was  not  till  the  boat  had 
gone  back  that  a  single  rescued  man  was  fit  to 
answer   a   question,   and   name   the  wreck. 

"The  mate  came  up  to  me,  and  began  to 
announce : 

"  *  It  is   a   regiment  —  * 

"  *  Stop  your  noise !  *  I  bawled,  and  cast  a 
glance  round   down   to   the   ladies. 

"  But  I  saw  that  they  had  not  heard,  though 
there  they  were,  those  three  dear  faces,  pale  as 
death,  and   watchin'   for   the   next   boat-load. 

"  Just   then    I    heard   a   man   sing   out : 

"  *A   cast-away   on   the   port   bow.' 

"I   s'posed  it   was    some    one    from    the  wreck 


AND  WHAT  THE  GOD  OF  THE  SEA,        397 

who  had  thrown  himself  into  the  sea.  We  got 
a  line  over,  and  a  man  went  down  to  the 
wreckage,  on  which  it  was  said  the  man  was 
floating  and  poundin'  his  brains  out  against  us. 
I  was  watchin'  for  'em  to  draw  up,  when  —  wilj 
ye  believe  it.? — that  girl,  Madge  Hardy,  actually 
flew  down,  over  stairs,  cordage,  and  lumber,  and 
pressed  her  way  through  the  men  like  lightnin','' 
with  a  sweep  of  the  arm  to  describe  it,  "and 
there  she  stood  when  they  brought  up  —  whom 
do  ye   think?" 

'*  Erastus  Smiles ! "  we  generally  shouted,  all 
in   chorus. 

"None  other,"  always  with  a  pleased  toss  of 
his  gray-whiskered  chin  and  the  hook  motion, 
delighted  to  think  we  had  guessed  right.  "And 
the  man  was  stiff  as  the  dead,  all  swollen 
under  the  cords  with  which  he'd  lashed  himself 
to   a  stave   of  a  ship's   long-boat. 

"And   the   sweet  young  girl  — " 

"Never  uttered  a  cry,  but  followed  as  they 
took  him  to  the  cabin,  and  said  how  he  could 
not  be  dead,  oh,  no,  she  knew  he  could  not  be, 
for  that  very  night  she  had  felt  that  God  would 
answer  her  prayer." 

"The   other   ladies?" 

"Well,   then,  ye  may  be  sure   I   had  my  hands 


398  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

full.  My  son's  wife  was  not  quite  so  calm.  Of 
course  she  knew  all,  then.  She  and  my  wife,  I 
had  'em  up  on  the  bridge  with  me,  in  two 
lashed  chairs,  faint  like,  as  boat-load  after  boat- 
load came  in.  *  Is  he  there } '  *  Have  they  found 
Mark  yet }  *  was  what  they  were  sayin'  ?  But  I 
did  not  expect  my  son  till  the  last,  of  course 
I  knew  he  would  do  his  duty,  if  he  was  alive, 
and    see  everybody   else   ofif    first." 

"  You  asked,  of  course,  if  General  Broon  was 
on  the  wreck,    alive   and   well?" 

*'No,    sir.     I   didn't   dare   ask  that." 

"Why   so.?" 

"Because  they  were  all  such  a  weather-beaten 
and  half-starved  lot  that  I  was  afraid  Mark  had 
^erished,  knowin'  how  he  would  have  exposed 
himself  most.  To  have  been  told  that  he  was 
dead,  afore  I  must  know  it,  would  have  jest 
taken    me   below.     My  only  son  !    Thank  God !  " 

"  That   is,  he   came   in   the  last   boat." 

"Exactly.  And  like  a  man,  too;  though  he 
was  all  tatters,  and  starved  for  two  days  and 
nights.  Yet  he  stepped  down  from  the  rail, 
where  the  two  big  sailors  had  him,  man-fashion, 
and  took  my  hand.  I  was  right  there  to  meet 
him.     He   simply   said : 

"I  believe,  father,   it  is  in  answer  to  prayer.* 


AND  WHAT  THE  GOD  OF  THE  SEA.        39^ 

**I  tell  ye,  that  was  a  royal  hand-shake.  I  can 
feel  it  yet !  But  he  had  to  leave  me  at  once 
an'  try  to  support  Laura.  And  they  were  both 
like  two  babies,  and  my  fust  mate  and  I  almost 
carried   'em   both   into   my   cabin." 

It  ought  to  be  told,  for  the  honor  of  huni.ii^ 
nature.  It  shall  be  added.  After  the  last  poor 
castaway  was  safely  on  board  the  Atlantic,  the 
quartermaster  of  the  regiment  elbowed  his  way 
through  the  throngs  of  grateful  passengers  who 
surrounded  Captain  Broon  and,  paper  in  hand, 
began : 

"Captain,  the  contract,   you   know." 

"What   contract?"   growled   the  old   man. 

"Why,  say  fifteen  thousand  dollars,  your  per- 
sonal  share;   and   your   men,   say — " 

"  What  !  A  contract  for  savin*  lives  on  the 
broad   Atlantic   ocean  .^     Never!" 

"But   the   government    always  — " 

"  To  the  dogs  with  government !  You  can  give 
my  sailors  what  you  please.  But  I  don 't  pro- 
pose to  receive  any  pay,  except  from  the  great 
God  who,  once  in  my  life,  sent  me  a  direct 
command ! " 

And  though  merchants  and  passengers  gave 
him  many  and  costly  testimonials,  no  salvage 
money   would   this   old   hero   ever  receive. 


400 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


XVIII. 

UNARMED. 

U"T  7^  TITHOUT  doubt,  for  a  month  at  least, 
^  ^  Laura,  dear,"  Mark  was  whispering 
to  his  wife,  the  next  day,  as  in  the  broad  sun- 
light the  steamer  was  forging  up  New  York 
bay. 

She  drew  the  closer  to  him  for  this  assurance, 
saying : 

"  A  month,  at   least,  with  my  own  husband  ! " 

In  fact,  reader,  it  was  to  be  nearer  six 
months.  The  government  at  once  left  the  whole 
charge  of  gathering  up  the  scattered  fragments 
of  the  ill-starred  expedition  in  General  Broon's 
hands.  His  station  was  to  be  in  New  York  for 
half  that   time. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  they  will  do  > "  asked 
Laura,  indicating,  with  a  nod  of  the  head.  Cap- 
tain Smiles  and  Madge  Hardy,  who  were  nerv- 
ously  pacing  the   steady  deck   at   a   distance. 

"I  know  what  she  ought  to  do,"  was  Mark's 
reply.  "Give  her  whole  heart  to  that  hero,  for 
hero  he  is,   and   worthy   of  her." 


UNARMED.  401 


"Yes,  indeed.  Your  father  goes  into  ecstasies 
over  the  story  that  everybody  is  telling  about 
Mr.    Smiles*   bravery   in    that   boat." 

"Everybody  on  the  ship  honors  Smiles,  except, 
it  may  be,  — " 

She  put  her  pretty  fingers  to  his  mouth,  and 
stopped   him   with : 

"I,  too,  have  learned  to  honor  a  man  ennobled 
by   a   heroic  purpose   in   life." 

"Laura,"  exclaimed  Mark,  fervently,  "yonder 
man  would  give  the  world  to  hear  you  say 
that." 

She  was  on  her  feet  in  a  moment,  and  send- 
ing out  a  silver  call,  "  Captain  Smiles ! "  in  the 
direction  of  her  beckoning  hand,  as  that  officer 
and  Madge  Hardy  made  their  next  turn  on  the 
deck. 

The  two  invited  parties  approached  at  once  \ 
the   man  pale,   the   woman   warmly   blushing. 

Laura  flew  up  on  Madge's  side,  and  then 
extending  a  hand  across  to  Erastus  Smiles, 
began,   bravely : 

"Captain  Smiles,  I  have  hardly  exchanged  the 
greetings  with  you  which  such  a  hero,  such  a 
true  and  noble  man  as  you  have  shown  yourself 
to  be,   deserves." 

Then     Madge    fell    to    embracing    and     kissing 


402 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 


the  speaker  in  such  an  impulsive  way  that  both 
Smiles  and  Broon  could  think  of  nothing  better 
to   do   than   to   shake   hands. 

"I  say,  Captain,"  Mark  began,  "your  cup  of 
happiness  must  be  about  full.  You  may  as  well 
confess  that  this  lovely  girl,  here,  has  given  you 
a  hope  to  live  for.  Engaged  already,  aren't 
you?" 

But  Smiles  was  so  nearly  overcome  with  emo- 
tion by  young  Mrs.  Lane's  speech  that  he  could 
only   stammer  out : 

**  Not  quite  as  far  as  that,  General.  But  you 
must  release  my  hand.  I  must  give  it  again  to 
your  noble  wife,  whose  faith  in  me,"  as  he 
seized  her  hand  again,  and  gazed  earnestly  into 
her  kind  eyes,  "is  worth  almost  as  much  as  the 
love   of  a  forgiving   God." 

"  Eh,  Captain  ? "  was  Broon's  quick  response. 
"A  forgiving  and  loving  God?  You  believe, 
then?" 

*'  General,  a  man  taught  as  I  was  in  child- 
hood, on  my  mother's  part,  don't  spend  forty- 
eight  hours  on  a  raft  in  mid-ocean  without 
prayer.  And  he  does  not  come  to  rescue,  as  I 
did ;  does  not  hear  it  from  the  lips  of  a  beauti- 
ful woman,  as  I  have  from  Miss  Hardy's,  that 
she,   too,   was   praying   for  him,   without   believing 


UNARMED,  403 


that  the  great  God  hears  the  prayers  of  the 
good." 

"  Thank  God  I  hear  that  speech ! "  fervently 
replied  Broon.  "  Old  Mayor  Hardy  could  n't  ob- 
ject to  that  sentiment  in  a  proposed  son-in-law." 

"  Papa,  —  "   Madge   began. 

"Suffer  me  to  say  it,  Miss  Hardy,"  Smiles 
interrupted.  "  I  realize,  General,  the  social  ob- 
stacles that  are  in  my  way.  We  have,  to  be 
frank  with  you,  been  speaking  about  them. 
Might  I  dare  so  much  as  to  ask  your  good 
offices  with  this  lady's  parents,  when  we  get 
ashore,   on  my  poor  behalf?" 

"Smiles,"  said  Broon,  "one  single  word  from 
my  father  to  Hardy,  if  he  talks  about  you  to 
him  as  he  is  talking  about  you  to  this  ship's 
company,   will  leave  nothing  to  be  desired." 

"Thank  you;  thank  him  I"  replied  Smiles,  "of 
course  you  and  I  are  in  for  the  war ;  and  a 
long  time  will  yet  ensue  in  which  I  may  prove 
to  Mr.  Hardy,  for  myself,  that  I  am  not  alto- 
gether unworthy." 

"  Captain,  Til  have  you  with  me  for  the 
present,   any  way,"   rejoined  \Broon, 

"  If  I  consulted  myself  only  I  might  well  be 
glad  to  hear  that,  sir,"  said  Smiles ;  "  for  there 
are  other  and  more  vexatious  matters  connected 
with   the  —  with  my  unhappy  —  " 


404 


A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 


"  Now,  Smiles,"  said  Broon,  interrupting,  "  let 
us  trust  your  father  and  my  wife's  mother," 
reclaiming  Laura  with  the  slightest  cloud  of 
anxiety  shadowing  his  happy  face,  "to  the  same 
God  of  prayer.  It  will  all  come  out  right,  some- 
how. You  do  not  mean  to  prefer  the  field  to 
my  staff,  in  New  York,  a  few  weeks,  collecting 
this   shattered   expedition   again  } " 

"I  mean.  General,  that  nothing  will  satisfy — " 

"You  shall  not  say  me,"  put  in  Madge,  "nor 
my  father.  You,  Mark  and  Laura,  bear  me 
protest." 

"True,"  Smiles  resumed.  "Nothing  will  satisfy 
my  own  sense  of  —  well,  of  duty  and  reparation, 
when  I  think  of  my  poor  father,  but  plain  hard 
service  in  the  field." 

There  was  something  so  calmly  resolute  in 
the  man's  air  that  the  young  general  checked 
himself  midway  of  his  protest,  and  was  silent. 
Then   he  asked: 

"Reparation?  What  would  satisfy  you,  —  to 
be  half  killed  in  battle?" 

"  I  would  have  been  as  glad  to  avoid  maiming 
as  the  next  "fellow,"  said  Smiles,  with  an 
attempt  to  make  light  of  the  presentiments  that 
he  could  not  quite  trifle  away,  "But  I  fear 
that  is  not  to  be." 


UNARMED.  405 


"  Pshaw,"  said  Laura.  "  You  must  not  return, 
sir,  to  your  father's  prescience  of  future  events." 
And  then  she  was  sorry  that  she  had  been 
so   frank. 

Captain  Smiles  gave  her  a  curious  look,  half 
pity  and  the  other  half  forgiveness,  yet  unmis- 
takably not  dislodged  from  the  mysterious  and 
prophetic  impression  that  was  upon  him.  Who 
can  explain  yet,  who  can  deny,  that  such 
impressions  of  the  future  do  cast  their  images 
over  our  souls   at   times  ? 

"At  all  events.  General,"  Smiles  resumed,  "I 
must  go  to  the  front.  I  must  make  this  family 
name  of  mine  a  comfort  to  myself,  at  least,  to 
wear,  by  being  willing  to  have  no  name  among 
the  living.  My  father  is  a  fugitive  from  — God 
pity  me!  What  sober  prose  is  this  for  lover's 
talks." 

"It  is  war-time,  old  fellow,"  laughed  Broon, 
with  a  sad  cadence.  Then  looking  away  over 
the  sea,  "We  young  folks  haven't  got  to  safe 
anchorage  yet,   as  father  would   say." 

"Pardon  me,  said  Smiles,  "but  you  have. 
General,   if    you   please." 

"How  so.?"  with  a  surprised  stare.  "Your 
father  has  picked  up  a  pilot  and  has  read  the 
papers.       I    just     overheard     him     telling     your 


406  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

mother  some  rather  joyful  tidings.  You  haven't 
Been  him   since  ?  '* 

"  No ;  I  confess  I  don't  catch  your  meaning/* 
said  Broon,  yet  rousing  himself  as  he  saw  the 
old  skipper  approaching,  shaking  the  New  York 
papers   in   his   hands. 

"The   papers   are  full   of  it,   my   son." 

"Full   of   what,   father.?     The   latest   battle?" 

"  Bless  you,  no.  The  army  ain't  doin'  any- 
thing. That  makes  an  old  fellow  like  me  sad. 
But  I  can't  help  feelin'  personally  kind  o'  all 
sails  full.  You  see,  resin  an'  tar  are  way  up 
out  o'  sight.  Jest  as  I  expected.  Bob,  I'm  — 
well,  I  don't  mind  sayin'  it  out,  right  here, 
among  shipmates  as  't  were.  And  you  all  know 
I'm   too   old   to  foller  the   sea  again." 

"  Father,  you  have  n't  a  selfish  hair  in  your 
head,"  exclaimed  Mark,  springing  up  and  grasp- 
ing the  old  man's  hand.  "  I  see  it  all.  Thank 
God  for  you.  Your  speculation  has  turned  out 
well?" 

"  I  can  sell  out  to-day,  and  be  independent ! 
But   I   shall   only   sell  half." 

"Allow  me  to  congratulate  you,  sir,"  said 
Captain  Smiles,  but  not  venturing  to  look  at  his 
superior  officers,  on  whose  valor  and  patriotism 
he  realized  that   he   had   cast   reflection. 


UNARMED. 


407 


"  Yes,"  resumed  the  captain,  looking  round 
half  regretfully  on  his  vessel,  "  she  goes  back 
without  me.  But  I  'm  too  old  to  foller  the  sea. 
I'll  stop  ashore  now  and  live  on  my  salt 
money,   please   the   kind   God." 

"Tar  and  resin  money,  rather,"  laughed 
Laura,   taking   his   arm,    newspapers   and   all. 

"  I  am  so  glad  for  you,  uncle  dear,"  added 
Madge. 

And  then  the  congratulations  being  complete, 
all  these  young  people  began  to  think  out  what 
effect  on  the  future  this  sudden  bewilderment 
of  renewed  riches  was  to  have.  If  it  had  been 
any  time  but  war-time,  the  future  would  have 
been  gilded  as  with  a  sunrise,  but  not  now. 
Yet  Mark  Broon  had  gone  into  the  army  when 
rich ;  it  was  not  on  that  phase  of  things  that 
he  was  ruminating,  head  down,  then  looking  up 
and   remarking   questioningly : 

"Of  course?" 

"Yes,"  resumed  his  father,  "and  I  shall  at 
once  take  back  the  lodge  in  the  woods  for  ye, 
my  boy.  Before  night  of  the  first  day  ashore, 
I  '11  have  Eaglecroft  and  the  town  house  again 
in   hand." 

''But,   father,  all   that   is   excellent." 

The  general's  voice  was   firm   now. 


4o8  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

"Yet  how  about  this  Lane-Smiles  litigation? 
That  worries  me  most,  if  you  11  pardon  me; 
Captain  Smiles  ;  and  I  'm  to  be  too  busy  to  give 
it  a  moment's  atteation.  As  soon  as  I  can 
clear  up  the  wreckage  of  my  unlucky  expedition 
I  must  be  off  again,  of  course,  no  man  can  tell 
whither.  I  want  to  take  Laura  with  me,  if 
possible." 

"Exactly,"  was  the  old  man's  reply.  "You 
fellers  just  push  right  on  in  your  fightin',  and 
I'll   attend  to   all   your   business   on   shore." 

"My  wretched  father — ,"  began  Captain  Smiles, 
his   face   pale   as   death. 

"And  my  unhappy  mother — ,'  Laura  inter- 
rupted,   her  eyes   filling. 

"  Young  man,"  sharply,  yet  not  unkindly,  che 
old  sailor  addressed  Smiles,  "  and  you,  my  pretty 
niece,  are  you  two  people  engaged  to  ship 
together }  " 

"  It  is  impossible,  sir,"  said  Smiles,  "  that  we 
should  be,  however  much  we  might  wish  it. 
After  a  battle  or  two,  possibly  Mayor  Hardy 
and  his  noble  wife  might  be  willing  to  listen  to 
my   suit." 

"Why,  I  like  that,  young  man,"  said  the  skip- 
per. "You  can  show  us  the  kind  of  blood  in 
your    veins,     whoever 's    your    father,      And    my 


UNAkMEi),  409 


money,"  witn  a  tender  look  bent  on  Laura, 
whose  face  was  now  hiding  its  tears  on  Mark's 
shoulder,  "why,  money  can  fix  up  this  —  this 
crookedness  that  has  involved  poor  Mrs.  Lane's 
property." 

"Hear  me!"  vehemently  Captain  Smiles  began. 
"  Is  that  what  you  mean  ?  Why,  there  is  noth- 
ing wrong  there.  Do  you  not  see  that  my 
unhappy  father  would  never  dare  claim  the  fulfil- 
ment of  any  contract  for  that  farm  1  Great 
God,  pity  me !  My  father  is  a  criminal !  His 
graver  offence  against  the  security  of  a  transport 
full  of  United  States  troops  has  driven  him  a 
fugitive  from  his  country.  Oh,  I  thought  I  had 
rectified  his  wrong !  I  tried.  I  did !  I  did ! 
God  must  know  I  tried,  both  to  block  his 
scheme  and  to  hide  the  proof  of  it  from  his 
enemies ! " 

And  Smiles,  with  hands  clutched  behind  his 
back,  an  agony  of  shame  on  his  features,  paced* 
back  and  forth  in  the  little  space  where  the 
group  of  pitying  friends  gazed  on  him  in 
silence. 

"Well,  Laura,  that's  good  news  for  you. 
That's  true,  too,"  said  Mark,  in  a  low  tone,  in 
his  wife's  ear.  "It  is  generally  the  way,  in  a 
good   God's   world,  that   scamps   circumvent   them- 


4IO  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME, 

selves  at  last,  give  them  time  enough.  Now  all 
that  we  have  to  do  is  to  see  that  mother  is 
cured  of  her  delusions,  and  kept  from  others. 
The  old  Bible  on  our  table  and  our  Sundays  in 
a  Christian  church  will  be  wholesome  anti- 
dotes." 

"I  tried  to  cover  father's  tracks,*'  groaned 
Erastus  Smiles,  now  suddenly  confronting  them, 
and  pouring  out  his  speech  again  in  eloquent 
sorrow.  "  If  I  did  wrong  in  that,  Heaven 
knows  that  I  was  honest,  for  I  shipped  myself 
in  the  crazy  craft  that  nearly  sent  us  to  the 
bottom.  Oh,  shame,  shame!  I  suppose,  now, 
that  that  man  got  thousands  of  dollars  as  the 
price  of  our  imperiled  lives,  his  own's  son's  life 
included.  Wait.  Hear  me  through.  He  has  fled. 
His  professional  enemies  have  the  proofs.  He 
will  never  return.  He  is  a  sick  man  at  the 
best.  I  hope  it  is  insanity.  I  could  love  him 
then.  He  will  die  in  Canada.  You  are  all  free 
of  your  troubles,  except  —  except  this  sweet  girl 
and  myself.  I  shall  do  one  thing.  I  shall  con- 
front bullets.  If  God  lets  me  live,  —  and  per- 
haps he  will,  for  my  mother's  prayers  and  Miss 
Hardy's  —  " 

"And  your  own;  boy.  Say  your  own  prayers, 
child.     Don't    think    that  it   is   in   man   to    atone 


UNARMED,  4JI 


for  his  own  or  others'  sins,"  said  the  old  cap- 
tain, tenderly.  "There  is  One  who  suffered  for 
us  all.  Since  Calvary,  each  may  pray  for  him- 
self." 

"Yes,  my  friends,"  responded  Smiles,  now 
casting  himself  down  on  the  bench  beside  Madge. 
"I  am  going  straight  back  to  the  faith  of  my 
Christian  mother.  No  one  knows,  except  he  has 
been  there,  the  horror  of  that  abyss  of  super- 
stition from  whence  I  am  struggling  upward. 
The  world  all  chaos ;  no  Bible,  no  altar,  no 
honor.  Nay,  no  law  but  luck ;  no  good  but 
gains.  Yet  ghosts  and  visions ;  a  gibberish  of 
so^alled  inspirations,  and  all  these  prompting  to 
added  lies.  The  earth  not  real ;  the  sky  not 
real ;  men  and  woman  of  truth  not  real.  Noth- 
ing real  but  appetites.  Despised  by  the  virtuous, 
and  hating  them  in  revenge.  Pitied  by  those 
who  love  you,  and  ashamed  of  the  glances  of 
their  kind  eyes.  Oh,  my  friends,  this  is  the 
deep  into  which  my  once  orthodox  father  sunk, 
and  whither  he  was  willing  to  pull  me  down. 
I  can  only  try  to  believe  that  at  last  he  was 
sincere  in  his  mad  delusions,  —  that  he  himself 
really  had  come  to  think,  in  his  lunacy,  that 
the  universe  was  false,  and  there  was  no 
God  I" 


412  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

"Stop!" 

It  was  Madge  Hardy  that  cried  out.  She 
put  her  handsome  hand  lovingly  across  his  lips. 
He  took  down  her  hand  quietly,  and  held  it, 
while   he  added  : 

"Now  it  is  my  prayer  that  I  may  once  offer 
my  life,  in  a  place  of  courage,  for  my  fellows 
and  this  great  country ;  if  Heaven  gives  it  back 
to   me  —  " 

"  I   will    marry    you,    if    I    have    to    be    hands 

for    you    all    your    days ! "     cried    Madge     Hardy 

this    time    stopping    his    lips   with    her  free,   soft 

palm. 

«  «  *  «  «  « 

On  the  twentieth  day  of  September,  just 
eleven  weeks  after  the  battle  of  Gettysburg, 
there  was  a  joyous  wedding  at  the  handsome 
residence  of  Ex-mayor  Hardy,  in  the  pretty  city 
of   S . 

Everybody  that  we  know  was  there.  Old 
Captain  Broon,  with  his  broad  laughter ;  his 
quiet  wife ;  Mrs.  Lane,  quite  like  other  folks  at 
last  again,  thanks  to  her  residence  for  three 
months  in  the  Broon  mansion  in  New  York ; 
Mrs.  Smiles,  a  gracious  lady  in  widow's  weeds, 
whom  the  reader  has  never  seen,  her  pretty 
daughters    at    her    side,    and    a    look    upon    her 


UNARMED. 


413 


sweet,  sad  features  such  as  the  landscape  some- 
times wears  when  a  storm  has  just  passed,  and 
at   evening  time   it   is   light. 

General  Mark  Broon  was  there,  all  in  splendid 
military  dress,  with  Laura  and  her  crooning 
little  daughter  most  of  the  time  upon  her  arm; 
for  it  was  still  war-time,  and  the  general's  hours 
with  them  were  to  be  as  yet  few;  he  said,  as 
it  was  a  home  wedding,  and  another  wedding  in 
war-time,  "the  infantry  would  not  seem  out  of 
place.** 

It  was  a  happy  wedding.  It  was  the  gift  of 
God.  God's  blessing  was  asked  upon  it,  the 
God  who  hears  prayer.  This  all  these  Christian 
women  believed ;  believing  this,  they  were  to 
send  these  two  brave  men  back  to  the  wars  in 
good  cheer.  It  was  evident  that  the  groom  was 
quite  able  again  to  do  good  service  as  colonel 
on  General  Broon's  staff ;  they  hoped  to  the 
end,  which  now,  thank  God,  began  to  seem  not 
far  ofif. 

Madge  Hardy,  at  the  right  place  in  the  cere- 
mony, took  Erastus  Smiles'  left  hand.  The  right 
hand  was   miles   away   at    Gettysburg. 

After  five  and  twenty  years,  at  this  writing, 
the  name  of  Smiles  is  no  shame  to  its  one. 
armed    owner,  as    he    walks,   an    honored  citizen, 


414  A    WEDDING  IN  WAR-TIME. 

the  streets  of  S .     Providentially,  Mr.  Hardy's 

fortune  left  him  no  need  for  two  hands  to  earn 
bread.  But  yet  there  are  no  busier  hearts  and 
heads  than  those  of  "the  two  generals,"  as   people 

in  New   York  and    S call  Smiles  and   Broon, 

who  are  the  happy  burden-bearers  of  three  of 
the  largest  benevolent  institutions  in  those  two 
cities,  not  to  speak  of  less  known  charities  of 
Christian  gentlemen  of  wealth,  with  leisure  for 
such  noble  service. 


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COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

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